


The Prince in the Tower

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Assistant Darcy Lewis, Canon Divergence - Thor: The Dark World, Darcy Lewis & Loki Friendship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I'll probably crank up the angst eventually because that's just what I DO, Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, POV Loki (Marvel), Post-Thor: The Dark World, Scientist Wrangler Darcy Lewis, Slow Burn, Stuck in Stark Tower, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, snark & banter, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:56:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: Thor should've just left him to die a glorious death on Svartalfheim, but he didn't, and Loki Laufeyson is none too pleased to find himself back on Midgard, surrounded by the mortals he despises.Reluctant cooperation with 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' is tiresome business... but at least the prospect of driving his liaison mad promises to be entertaining.He *is* the God of Mischief, after all.





	1. Blood & Ash

Loki  _ hated _ his room.

Well, it was a suite of rooms, to be fair, with all required amenities and a tantalizing view of the city he’d nearly laid to waste.  _ “The royal chambers,”  _ Stark called it, oozing sarcasm that Loki might have admired a bit, had it not been directed at him. 

It was made even worse by the fact that they’d placed him  _ directly  _ across the hall from Thor, as if he needed a keeper. As if Thor could truly stop him, if he finally snapped and decided to kill them all. More insulting than the fact that his oaf of a brother was tasked with babysitting him was the fact that, while Thor could come and go as he pleased, Loki’s door locked from the outside. 

Why the idiot Thor had decided to drag along his brother’s would-be corpse along with him from Svartalfheim, Loki would never understand, but by the time he’d healed enough to come to, Thor and his mortal companions had managed to avert the Dark Elf attack  _ somehow. _

He’d been little more than a nearly-lifeless heap hidden away behind a car at that point, unable to do anything more than glare ineffectively at the sky and fume. Death would have been preferable, all things considered. At least he might have made it to Valhalla and seen Frigga again. 

Instead, he was hauled onto a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier and entombed in glass once more, cuffed and chained, despite Thor’s protests. Then Thor vanished, and Loki began to believe that he’d been abandoned, feeling strangely hurt by it.  _ Always alone, Loki,  _ he reminded himself.  _ You are always alone.  _

But Thor had eventually returned, the Iron Man and Fury alongside him. Stark, for his part, looked vastly entertained by all of the drama, while Fury simply seemed grim. Loki puffed himself up, determined to look threatening and impassive, despite his still-aching wounds.

“Brother,” Thor said, a pathetically hopeful expression on his face as he approached the glass. “Father has agreed to release you from your sentence, in light of your valor on Svartalfheim. I have accepted the blame for your escape, so he could not fault you for that.”

“I am not your brother,” he replied automatically, fidgeting with his fingers. He hated that hopeful look. It reminded him of the queen. “And don’t play coy with  _ me, _ Thor. What are the conditions of the Allfather’s generosity?”

Thor sighed, glancing back at the others for support. Fury’s face remained as unchanged as stone, but Stark managed an unenthusiastic thumbs-up. “You will remain here on Midgard with me, for the foreseeable future, and aid in our efforts to protect this realm from intergalactic war.”

“No. Take me back to Asgard. I choose the dungeon.” 

Stark muttered something that sounded suspiciously similar to  _ drama queen,  _ and Thor’s face fell. 

“What was that, Stark?” Loki hissed, prowling closer to the glass. “You would call  _ me _ dramatic, when you erected that giant, priceless altar to your ego in the middle of the city?”

_ “Well, _ it wasn’t actually priceless, just very expensive. Everything has a price, Reindeer Games, including  _ you.  _ So, what is it?” 

The God of Lies continued to glare, but the wheels in his mind were spinning. At least if he remained out from under Odin’s thumb, he would eventually be able to escape,  _ especially _ during all of the chaos that was sure to ensue when Thanos came calling, and he  _ would _ come calling, Loki was certain of that. 

“I want a time limit on this indentured servitude,” he said. “I have no intention of spending the rest of my painfully long life traipsing about on Midgard playing hero.”

“You were fine enough with the idea of ‘traipsing about on Midgard’ when you thought you would be playing  _ king,” _ Thor retorted, temper beginning to flare. His fist clenched, and Loki noticed something conspicuously absent. 

_ Ah.  _ “Where is your hammer, God of Thunder?” he asked, practically snickering with glee, for he already knew the answer. 

“I was required to forfeit Mjolnir in recompense for my crimes,  _ Brother, _ which include freeing  _ you.” _

“You only freed me because you wanted to  _ use _ me.”

“As fascinating as this family drama is,” Fury impatiently cut in, “we need an answer now, Loki. Ten years on Earth in service to S.H.I.E.L.D., and then you can go back to Daddy’s dungeon and let him deal with you. Frankly, I don’t care  _ what _ happens to you after you give us what we need, as long as you stay  _ far _ away from me.”

Loki ignored the gibe; he did not care for Fury, and Fury did not care for him. That was highly unlikely to change. And really, ten years wasn’t that long, not for him, not for a  _ god. _ Besides, he could likely slip away long before then,  _ especially _ if he could convince the mortals to trust him. 

“I would like an allowance,” he said, smiling his most charming smile, hands clasped behind his back. “Consider it my fee for consultation.”

Fury’s eye bulged in outrage, but Stark quickly cut in. “Done. I’ll even cover it myself. It turns out the government it ridiculously stingy with their assets. Who would have guessed?”

“Stark-” the director began, warning clear in his tone.

“What? The man wants to be a mercenary - I can work with that. At least old Crazy Eyes here isn’t demanding a blood sacrifice. Are you?”

The smile widened. He did  _ love _ it when the mortals quarreled with each other. “Not at the moment.”

“See? That’s more than I can say for some of my investors. This is  _ clearly _ the start of a beautiful relationship.”

And just like that, Loki Laufeyson, God of Lies and Mischief, had become a prisoner-slash-employee of Stark Industries.

 

\--------------

 

There was clearly something of a power struggle going on among the ranks of Earth’s precious Avengers Initiative, and Loki delighted in it. Stark Tower was crawling with S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives, and it appeared to be a point of some contention. Loki could understand that; neither he nor Stark were the type of men who liked to have their every move monitored. 

Still, while the Tower itself had  _ extreme _ levels of security, both in terms of manpower and technology, Loki found himself slightly thankful that he wasn’t going to simply be shoved into a hole in the ground somewhere, tortured for information and left to rot. He had  _ seen _ S.H.I.E.L.D.’s modus operandi through Agent Barton’s mind; while he could endure a great deal of suffering, and  _ had, _ in the past, he was not particularly eager to repeat the experience. 

Especially not at the hands of mortals.

They apparently considered him too great of a risk to parade in through the front door, instead transporting him directly to Stark’s penthouse landing pad via helicopter. The aircraft was loud, noisy, crudely-made - so typically  _ Midgardian _ , and Loki  _ hated _ it. 

He had been made to endure all of the usual threats once he’d arrived, variants of ‘ _ we’ll never trust you’ _ and  _ ‘you’ll die if you betray us’ _ and on and on ad nauseum. He’d heard it all before. It was actually something of a relief when the trio of Thor, Stark, and Agent Romanoff had finally escorted him to his chambers. 

“Look,” Stark told him after Loki had stepped inside the bright, sterile room, standing in the open doorway, “I know you have ungodly anger management issues, but I would  _ really appreciate it  _ if you didn’t mess up my stuff. If you break anything, it’s coming out of your allowance.” He smirked. “Welcome to the team.”

The door hissed closed. Loki did not even have to test it to know that it would be locked. 

The suite had not taken very long to explore, though he had to admit that Stark had been rather generous, and Loki got the distinct impression that he was being very obviously bribed.  _ Smart man, Stark. _ The rooms were all minimally-furnished and had a sleek, sterile sort of look about them, and the contrast from the warm hues and ostentatious decor of the palace sent a pang of homesickness stinging through his chest.

_ But it wasn’t your home, _ he reminded himself.  _ You were just another decoration. _

The main space was comprised of a small sitting room and what Stark had described as a ‘kitchenette,’ which Loki assumed had been included in an effort to ensure that the rest of them did not have to endure his presence during mealtimes. Although, the cabinets and the refrigerator were empty, so perhaps it was intended as a way to mock him as he slowly starved. Briefly, he wondered if Thor even knew what a refrigerator  _ was; _ he’d never been very quick to pick up the intricacies of foreign cultures.

His bed was large, though the bedroom itself was relatively small, and it came with an ensuite bathroom. At least he would have plenty of privacy. A dresser sat in the corner of his bedroom, and he tugged open the drawers, expecting nothing, surprised when he found them full. It wasn’t necessary for him to wear Midgardian clothing for him to blend in - he could simply disguise himself with his seiðr - so he took this as something of a test, a way to see how willing he was to  _ fit in. _

Frowning, Loki pulled a soft, rather stretchy grey shirt from the drawer. He  _ had _ been wearing the same clothing since he’d escaped from the Allfather’s dungeon, and it  _ was _ rather blood-soaked from his almost-death, though he’d made certain to hide the damage with his magic; perhaps it would be for the best if he accepted Stark’s  _ generosity.  _

The glamor faded away as Loki stepped in front of his bathroom mirror, and he winced slightly at the sight; he looked like he’d just been dragged from the pits of Helheim. Dark purple circles underlined his eyes, and his hair was limp and dull. One of his lips had apparently split sometime during their little adventure on Svartalfheim - he hadn’t even noticed it at the time - and the crimson mess on the front of his armor looked rather grim. 

Peeling off his clothing was unpleasant; his blood had caked and crusted to his skin, and even though his wound had healed to a great degree, it was still incredibly tender.  _ Thank the Norns for seiðr, _ he thought as he discarded his ruined tunic in a heap on the floor. He could not imagine having to endure the embarrassment of his brother and the mortals realizing he was in such a state. 

The water in the shower was scalding, and he relished the burn of it, watching as the grey ash from Svartalfheim swirled with the crimson of his blood as it disappeared down the drain. He leaned his head against the tile, closing his eyes as he fought the urge to simply sink to the floor and  _ not be. _ Loki was tired, exhausted,  _ used-up… _ and now he was trapped yet again, waiting for a chance to escape so that… what? He could keep running forever? Hope that his enemies destroyed each other so that he could rule over the smoldering ruins of the Nine Realms?

But no, he was  _ Loki of Asgard,  _ of Jotunheim, of wherever he happened to be, really, and he would not allow himself to dwell on his seemingly-neverending bout of bad luck. He would end up on top, eventually. Hadn’t Moth- hadn’t  _ Frigga _ always said that one of his greatest strengths was his tenacity, his determination?

His  _ glorious purpose. _

Eventually, the water in the bottom of the shower ran clear, and Loki decided he might as well get out and get dressed; there was an intercom on the wall by the main door to his suite, and he was fairly suspicious that he was going to have to call and ask nicely if he wanted anything to eat. He was actually hungry enough to consider it. 

The shirt he tugged on was thin and a bit clingy, and he wasn’t really a fan of the way it left most of his arms bared, but he supposed it really didn’t matter in the long run.  _ Blend in, Loki. Make them let their guards down. _ The trousers were… well, he was actually a bit flummoxed as to  _ what _ they were, for the material was dark blue, nearly black, and slightly rough. He probably  _ should _ know the word for it, but he could not remember. At least they fit. 

Reapplying the glamor to his skin, he stared into the fogged mirror, testing his smile - still thin, still taunting, still exactly as it should be.  _ Unbowed. _ As he trudged from the steamy bathroom, he eyed his bed, sorely tempted to throw himself down and surrender to the exhaustion tugging at the edge of his consciousness. But this was a new prison, with too many undefined variables and unexplored nooks and crannies, and Loki forced himself to walk past it and back into the main room.  _ No rest for the wicked. _

The only camera he discovered was in the main room, positioned directly over the doorway. He found this shocking, but then, he assumed that Stark knew it would be a worthless endeavor trying to spy on him in his own chambers, and he immediately disabled the thing. It was likely all for show, a token attempt to appease Fury and prove that he was entirely under control. Well, he wasn’t. The camera disintegrated into dust in his palm.

Two couches were arranged in the living area, which seemed a bit excessive, as he sincerely doubted that he would be having many visitors drop by for a friendly chat. The wall opposite held a large, flat screen, and he moved to examine that next, pressing a button and bringing the thing to life. Animated drawings of animals flickered across the screen, and Loki switched it off, huffing in irritation; it was only a television. 

Another button by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, he discovered, would make them either a glossy-black opaque or transparent. He pressed his palm against one and released a tiny bit of power, just out of curiosity, and was unsurprised to see the ripples of a glowing matrix spread across the glass. Heightened security had been installed, then. Should he feel flattered?

For a while, Loki simply stood and stared down at the city below, crawling with countless little mortal lives, so rushed, so short-sighted, so utterly meaningless. He could have saved them from themselves. 

His thoughts turned dark before long, and he turned off the view, moving to the intercom, where he pressed the single button on the sleek steel panel after only a moment of deliberation.

Agent Romanoff’s voice came through the speaker, somehow managing to sound simultaneously bored and impatient. “What is it, Loki?”

“I regret to inform you of this,  _ Natalia, _ but if you want my assistance, you will have to feed me.” He paused, then added, “And I desire access to your internet system and to my  _ payment, _ Agent.”

There was a crackle of static. “I’ll be down in a minute,” she said. 

A minute turned into thirty, and Loki was just about to lose his temper and press the button again when the door slid open, admitting Agent Romanoff and a thin, strawberry-blonde woman with a noticeable smattering of freckles.  _ Stark’s woman,  _ he realized; he had seen her before, when he was planning his assault on the city. 

“Hello,” she said, tucking her datapad under her arm and smiling in a way that suggested she was used to dealing with the Tower’s unwanted guests. “Pepper Potts, Mr. Odinson, and I’m in charge of the day-to-day around here.”

“Laufeyson,” he corrected, eyes narrowing; he was almost certain Thor had put her up to that just to vex him.

She shrugged delicately. “Loki, then. We brought some take-out from one of the cafes downstairs to tide you over, but you’ll be getting one of these soon,” she tapped the datapad, “and you can place orders for supplies from there. Obviously, S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t going to let you go out grocery shopping.” 

Agent Romanoff made a startled sort of laugh, moving past him to drop a large paper bag on his coffee table. “How soon?” he asked.

“Tomorrow. Extra security protocols, you understand. And I should also mention that anything you buy with the funds Mr. Stark is providing will be reviewed by J.A.R.V.I.S., so I wouldn’t try to order anything that might seem like the components for a weapon or bomb, if I were you.”

“I would not  _ need _ a bomb, Miss Potts,” Loki replied, showing his teeth. She truly was a professional, he had to give her that; while her face tightened slightly in worry, she smoothed it over quickly enough.

“Save it, Loki,” Agent Romanoff said sharply, returning to the door. “The megalomaniacal  grandstanding is a lot less effective when you’re in a v-neck and jeans.” She grabbed Pepper’s arm and dragged her back into the hallway, and the door sprang closed behind them. 

He stared after them for a moment, slightly baffled by their abrupt departure and disappointed that he’d been denied the opportunity for further taunting.  _ Jeans, _ he thought distractedly.  _ Interesting. _

The brown bag turned out to contain two boxes full of some kind of noodles. Loki had eaten something similar before, when he was living in a bunker and planning his attack in Stuttgart, though he could not remember the name. It was passable, and he ate it all. 

Then… well, then there was nothing for him to do, and he turned on the television, only to turn it off almost immediately when he saw the news plastered with a grainy phone recording of Thor heroically rushing to the rescue in London. His stomach turned; why had Thor brought him back?  _ Why? _

There was a small desk and bookshelf situated in one corner, but it was completely devoid of any books, and Loki let his head fall back against the cushion of the couch, sighing heavily. Boredom was his enemy. Boredom made the memories come, the dreams, the nightmares, the doubts… 

He tried to meditate, to focus on his magic, but the silence in his room was deafening, and he found that he could not. He paced. He turned the television back on and watched the news. Watched his brother - no,  _ not _ his brother - save the day from a dozen different angles. He sprawled back on one of the couches and closed his eyes, imagining Agent Romanoff on her knees, begging for his forgiveness for daring to speak out of turn. He paced some more. 

Finally, sometime late in the night, he managed to fall asleep on the couch, face buried in the cushions. His sleep was tumultuous, and he was up again before daybreak, pacing anxiously around the room when he was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.

_ At last, _ he thought,  _ something. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "MoA," you may be thinking, "You've got a bunch of WIPs already. Should you really be starting another one??"
> 
> The answer, my friends, is always "yes" - there can never be too much Loki banter in the world. <3


	2. Bacon & Eggs

His door slid open with a slight electronic hiss, and there stood Jane Foster’s little apprentice, nervously chewing on her lip. “Um…” She hesitated, scanning his form as if trying to reassure herself that he posed no danger. “Hey, Mr. Angry-God-Man,” she said finally. “The important people are busy with some training thing, so they sent me to escort you to the conference room for your psych evals. So… let’s hit the road.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her oversized jacket, looking up at him expectantly.

Loki simply stood in the doorway and stared at her for a moment, then glanced up at the security camera on the ceiling just down the hall. This _had_ to be some sort of stupid test - it just _had_ to be. The frail little creature didn’t even have a weapon - he could incapacitate her in a heartbeat, if he wanted. Did they truly think him so foolish, to fall for such obvious bait?

“Lead the way, Miss Lewis,” he purred instead, laughing to himself at the way her eyes widened in surprise. He supposed that she had not expected him to have any idea who she was, but Loki was blessed with a nearly-perfect memory; it made deceit and mischief _so_ much easier.

“Oh, okay,” she said, apparently taken aback that he had agreed so readily. She awkwardly waved him out of his room, then set off down the hallway at a brisk pace, sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, you just look _different._ Where’s all your crazy supervillian armor? The helmet?”

Loki’s brow lifted. “Are we going into battle, Miss Lewis?”

“It feels like it,” she muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey, have you had breakfast yet? I kinda thought it would take longer to lure you out of your cave than it did, so we’ve got some time to kill. Like, a _lot_ of time. And I want coffee.”

Caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance, he nodded, deciding that anything had to be better than being trapped alone in a room any longer. “As you wish.”

“Who are you, the Dread Pirate Roberts?” she snorted, then she noticed his quizzical expression. “It’s from a movie. I guess you didn’t get around to watching many cult classics when you were trying to take over the world.”

His lip twitched slightly. Was she _trying_ to provoke him? No, he decided, it was far more likely that she was nervous and chattering mindlessly in an attempt to distract herself. She turned down another hallway and halted in front of a highly-polished metal door. Loki watched with interest as she held the ID card on the lanyard around her neck to the elevator’s control panel, which beeped and flashed her name. It would be _so_ easy to steal… another test, he decided.

He followed her into the elevator when it arrived, intentionally standing just a _bit_ too close for comfort; there was something inherently satisfying about making mortals squirm. “So, Jane slapped you, huh?” she suddenly blurted, meeting his gaze in the mirrored reflection of the metal.

“She did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Why don’t I give you a demonstration, and you can tell me?” he asked, learning over her shoulder.

“Back up, Magic Man,” she said fiercely, the hand in her pocket suddenly reemerging, gripping an odd black device. “I will taze the _hell_ out of you.”

So she _did_ have a weapon, then, just not a very impressive one. “I was only teasing, Miss Lewis,” he said lightly, smiling blandly at their reflections. “No need to be so on-edge.”

“Yeah, right.”

She shoved the stun gun back into her pocket as the elevator dinged, her expression smoothing over. _Interesting._ He’d half-expected her to run from the elevator in a panic, screaming for one of her heroes to come save her, but she seemed rather determined to handle things on her own.

“There’s a kitchen this way,” she told him, turning right down the hall. “It’s near the labs where Jane and Bruce hang out, so I’m _assuming_ it’ll be the one you use the most, too. Try not to poison anything.”

“Your distrust _wounds_ me, mortal.”

So, he was to be shoved into a laboratory with Thor’s woman and the monster, was he? He supposed it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, though he’d dared to hope for more privacy.

The kitchen was bright and sleek and incredibly sterile, somehow making little Darcy Lewis look a bit out-of-place. “Well,” she announced, gesturing grandly, “this is it. Do you want anything to eat? I know Thor eats like a bear, so I’m guessing you’re probably starving all the time, too.”

Loki cocked his head, wondering why she even _cared._ “Yes. It takes quite a bit more energy to maintain a god.”

“But you’re not a god, right?” she asked, poking buttons on what he assumed must be her beloved coffee machine. “Like, you’re more of an alien. You can get beaten up and die and stuff.”

Shrugging, he followed her across the room, the cabinet doors all flying open with just the slightest touch of seiðr, partly because he wanted to peruse their contents, and partly because he enjoyed making her jump. “The ancient Midgardians who worshipped us believed this, yet they bowed in reverence all the same.”

“That was a long time ago. Things are different now.”

“Are they? I believe that mortals will always fall to their knees, in the end.” He grinned down at her, and he saw her hand shift slightly towards her pocket. “Don’t be afraid, Miss Lewis,” he whispered, voice dropping, “ I just mean to make certain that you understand what I want.”

Her cheeks turned slightly pink. “What do you _want,_ then?”

“Cream and sugar,” he snickered, spinning on his heel to go examine the refrigerator, thrilled with the indignant fury and embarrassment that flashed across her face.

“You’re a dick.”

“Language,” he chided, digging through the contents of the refrigerator, finding himself surprisingly unbothered by her lack of respect. He decided that he must be terribly starved for entertainment. “This selection is dismal. Prepare something for me.”

“Are you _crazy?_ I’m already being _way_ nicer than you deserve just by making you caffeine. I think you can manage toasting a bagel.”

“Of course I _can,_ but why _should_ I, when you’re here?”

“Patriarchy!” she exclaimed, pointing accusingly at him. “If you want to eat while you’re stuck here on Earth, you’d better get used to doing things for yourself.”

She kept ranting on about alien superiority complexes, and Loki sighed impatiently, eyes scanning the room to locate all of the surveillance cameras. Had there always been this many, he wondered, or had they been placed in preparation for his arrival? What he _wanted_ to do was terrify her into submission, but he supposed that would look less-than-flattering to whoever was watching him.

_Fine,_ he grumbled to himself. He had been through much, much worse; he could certainly handle the indignity of making himself something to eat. Tuning out her, he grabbed a carton from the refrigerator and set to work.

He felt Darcy hovering just behind him a short time later, leaning around his shoulder to peer at the stove.”Are you making scrambled eggs?” she cried, seemingly aghast. “This has got to be the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Hang on, turn this way.” Loki glanced to the side to find her brandishing her phone. “We need to get you an apron or something. Say ‘cheese,’ Mischief.”

He glared at her, and the lights flickered off and on again just as the camera clicked. _“Got you,_ sucker,” she laughed, eyes lighting up. “I’d taken like twenty before you even looked this way. I’m a pro. Nice try with the lights, though.”

“You do realize that I could simply make that device melt in your hand, don’t you?”

“You don’t have to be so grouchy all the time, you know. Besides, knowing Tony’s tech, it’s probably already on the Cloud or something. Don’t worry, it’s cute, everyone will love it. See?” She flipped the phone around, and Loki struggled to resist the urge to simply snatch the thing from her fingers and crush it. It was not _cute._ It was _demeaning._

“Actually, I have a better idea,” Darcy declared, turning her back to him and getting terribly close to his chest as she kept her arm outstretched. He found himself staring at the image of his own chin and the top of her head. “Could you lean down a little?” she said, and for some reason he did not entirely understand, he did. Maybe it was because he found himself suddenly curious about the scent of her shampoo, which was really quite pleasant.

The camera clicked, and the girl spun back around as she examined the fruit of her efforts. “Oh, God, this one is _perfect._ Look at your _face.”_ He did, and he was less than pleased - he looked murderous, while she was beaming. It was ridiculous.

“Absolutely perfect,” she continued, tapping away at the screen. “Caption: Breakfast Bad Boy, frying-pan emoji, coffee emoji, and _snake_ emoji. Get it? You’re the snake. Hashtag: at home with the Avengers.”

She snickered, and Loki closed his eyes. Maybe he _should_ just kill her and run. Could he endure even a _day_ of this, much less _years? “_ Are you not committing a serious breach in security protocols?” he managed, dishing his eggs out onto a platter and emptying what was apparently considered a ‘family-sized’ package of bacon into the pan.

“Nah. I kinda ended up with the side job of social media manager, actually. I call it ‘Daily Avengers with Darcy.’ It helps all these weirdos seem more human and approachable.”

“I am neither human nor approachable.”

“That’s why I gave you the snake emoji, duh.”

He decided to try again. “I am _not_ one of your Avengers. I am, as you said, a villain. I _decimated_ your city.”

“Yeah, well, people love handsome, reformed baddies. Seemingly-reformed, anyway. I’m not convinced.” She continued scrolling away on her phone. “See, here’s a comment already: _‘Is it bad that I find this hot? xoxo_. _’”_

Well, at least that gave him an angle to work with, a way to torment her and gain the upper hand once again. “You find me handsome, do you?”

She looked up at him, affecting an air of indifference. “I mean, yeah, _objectively._ You’ve kinda got that angsty, Heathcliff vibe. But you also nearly killed me and everybody else in Puente Antiguo, and then you tried to take over the planet, so that kinda takes away from the charm.”

“Objectively?” he pressed, poking at the sizzling bacon in the pan with a wooden spoon, hiding his smirk as she went on the defensive.

“Well, yeah,” she sputtered, realizing her mistake moments too late. She gestured at him helplessly. “Objectively.” Stiffly, she turned and marched back to her side of the kitchen. “Coffee’s ready,” she groused. “Probably cold by now, too.”

“Don’t blame me, Miss Lewis. You are the one who decided to waste time singing my praises. Although, I _am_ incredibly flattered, I must admit.” Loki turned off the stove and carried his platter to the island in the middle of the kitchen, taking a seat on a stool that was surprisingly comfortable. Only the best for Stark, he supposed.

He was a bit surprised when she slid into the seat across from him, pushing a mug over to his side of the countertop. “That’s enough food for like, six people, you know. Your cholesterol is probably out of control.”

“Your concern for my health is noted, mortal.” Prepared to criticize, Loki was startled to find that the coffee she’d made him was, in fact, rather good. He thought best not to mention it.

“You could offer to share.”

His eyes crinkled in amusement as he watched her annoyance build, pointedly refusing to reply until he had managed to clear off a good third of the platter. “I could,” he finally conceded.

Frowning, Darcy opened her mouth to say something, likely something rather irate, but her buzzing phone diverted her attention. “Crap,” she muttered. “Ian’s looking for me.”

“Do you expect me to know who that is?”

“Well, you knew who _I_ was,” she pointed out. “It’s not like we’d ever been introduced. I figured it was just some kind of weird magic thing.”

“Oh, _no,_ Darcy… I first saw your face when Thor was banished to Midgard. I _remembered_ you.” It was interesting, he noted, how flustered the girl seemed to become when he dropped the pitch of his voice. Even _more_ interesting was the way her eyes widened when he called her by her given name. _Perfect,_ Loki thought.

“That’s… that’s creepy.”

“Yet it fills your little human heart with delight, doesn’t it?” Her eyes narrowed at the jab, but she seemed to recognize that he was only trying to bait her, and she ignored him, teeth digging into her lip. Loki realized that he was growing rather fond of that particular nervous tick, for her lips were actually quite alluring. He would have to endeavour to make her nervous more often. “Who is this Ian?”

“My intern. Do you have those on Asgard? It’s like an assistant. I’m Jane’s intern, and Ian ended up as mine.”

“If he is merely your lackey, then why do you appear so apprehensive?”

_“Lackey,_ I like that,” Darcy mused, swirling the coffee in her mug contemplatively. “Well, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but when we almost got wiped out by those interdimensional elves, or whatever they were, I was all, ‘Oh my God, I almost died a kissless loser,’ and the adrenaline was pumping, and so I grabbed Ian and basically swept him off of his feet.”

Loki’s eyebrows crept up as the girl rambled, wondering why she seemed so willing to spill her woes to him, of all people. Though, he imagined that she must feel terribly lonely, trapped in this tower full of gods and geniuses and superhumans - was Jane Foster available for friendly, normal chatter? Somehow, Loki doubted it. It would make it even easier for him to take advantage. “And now these trysts displease you?”

“What? _Trysts?_ Oh, jeez, no. We just kissed, and like, held hands some on the helicarrier on the way back Stateside, and now I don’t know what’s going on anymore. He keeps giving me these _looks.”_

How _precious,_ Loki thought, for the bold, loud-mouthed little human to seem so befuddled by the attentions of an admirer. “You had best prepare yourself, then,” he informed her, angling his head slightly to the side as his sensitive ears picked up the tell-tale shuffling of feet approaching them from somewhere down the corridor, “for your would-be lover is nearly upon us.”

“Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “This will be totally fine. I can handle you and Ian at the same time. Strong, independent woman. You got this, Darcy.”

The door to the kitchen slid open, interrupting the girl’s strange pep-talk, and Loki slowly spun about on his stool, mug in hand, to regard this fearsome _Ian._ He was not impressed; the boy was scrawny, with a sort of perplexed, anxious expression. Even more unimpressive was the fact that he seemed to be frozen under the weight of Loki’s scrutiny, and the god felt close to laughter.

“Hey, Ian,” Darcy said with forced cheerfulness. “Um, this is Loki, Thor’s evil adopted brother. I guess you probably recognize him from the news, though. Want some coffee?”

“Sure.” He still did not move. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw Darcy hop down from her seat, though he kept his gaze fixed on the man. _That’s it, mortal. Squirm._ “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, I’m babysitting our resident malevolent entity all day, so I guess you can just take a day off.” She came back into Loki’s field of vision, stopping to glance between the two of them. “It’s ok, he won’t bite,” she said to Ian, and then to Loki, “Stop looking like you’re gonna bite.”

It was an opening he couldn’t ignore, and really, she should have known better. “But what if I _do_ bite?” he asked with as much gravity as he could muster, abandoning his former target to drag his eyes down her form.

The expression she made was equal parts hilarious and _delicious,_ but Loki had an excellent poker face. “I can’t with you right now, Magic Man,” she said. “It’s way too early in the day for this magnitude of nonsense.” Turning her back to him, she handed off the mug she’d fetched. “He’s just showing off because he’s got an audience. Seriously, take the day off. Or maybe go find Jane or Bruce and see if they could use some help.”

“Could I speak with you in the hallway for a moment?”

“I guess, but you know this guy -” she jerked a thumb over her shoulder “- he’ll probably be able to hear you anyway, so there’s really no point.” Her astute observation took Loki a bit by surprise, but then, he supposed the events of the last two years had likely made her significantly more aware of her surroundings.

“Oh. Isn’t… isn’t watching _him_ a bit over your pay grade, Darcy?”

The girl bristled slightly. “Seriously? Just because I can’t kill a man with my heels or turn green or something doesn’t mean that I can’t do something _useful_ around here. Loki’s under control. Aren’t you?” she demanded, turning towards him with a charmingly fierce look flashing in her eyes.

“I am completely in your thrall, Miss Lewis,” he drawled, then he returned to his breakfast, eager to finish it while he still had a chance; this was taking quite some time, and Loki was beginning to suspect that his day would consist of more than these ‘psych evals’ she mentioned, especially if she intended on accompanying him all day long. Or was that simply an excuse to avoid her suitor? He hoped not, for the last time he’d had even a sliver of this degree of entertainment was when he’d escaped the dungeons of Asgard.

Was he actually, Norns forbid, _enjoying_ the company of ridiculous little Darcy Lewis? What a troublesome notion.

“See? I’ve got this,” she continued. “You can hang around if you want, but I can _guarantee_ that you won’t enjoy it.”

“I’ll go see if Jane needs anything, then. I’ll check back in around lunchtime.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Loki heard the door hiss again, and he smiled to himself. “So,” he said, “would you like for me to turn him into a toad?”

“There is something seriously wrong with you,” she grumbled, returning to lean on the counter by his side. “You can’t just go around turning people into toads.”

“Of course I can. I’ve done it to Thor on _multiple_ occasions. ‘The Frog Prince.’” He grinned. “He was quite sour on Midgardian fairy tales for some time after that.”

“Wait, really?” She seemed genuinely impressed for a moment, then her eyes narrowed. “But you _shouldn’t,_ is my point. Especially to nice people. Ian’s really nice.”

Rolling his eyes, Loki polished off the rest of his breakfast and drained his coffee, wondering how much of the mortal’s revered caffeine it would take to actually make him feel less exhausted. It would seem that being nearly-killed one time after another could leave one a bit under the weather. “More?” he asked, holding the mug out to her.

She looked as though she intended to refuse him, but then she plucked the mug from his hand, shaking her head. “At least you didn’t smash the cup,” she said cryptically. “Small victories.”

Ten minutes later and sufficiently refueled, the pair found themselves in the elevator once again, this time apparently heading underground. Loki did not necessarily care for being underground; it made him feel antsy, trapped, and he decided to amuse himself as a distraction. “Imagine,” he whispered into Darcy’s ear, moving behind her so quickly and quietly that she jumped at his sudden nearness. “What would happen if we were to become trapped in here?”

“I’d kill you to keep you from wasting all the oxygen,” she replied without hesitation, glaring at his reflection.

“There is adequate ventilation,” he pointed out, sneaking his arm around to take her by the chin and angle her head towards the grate in the ceiling.

She stiffened. “There’s a camera right there, too, you know.”

“I know, _Darcy.”_ He grinned at the blinking light on the ceiling as she reached for her now-empty pocket, realizing too late that her little weapon was gone. “Perhaps Thor should have warned you that in addition to all my other talents, I am also quite an accomplished thief.”

“Give it back!”

“No.” He slid away from her fluidy as the elevator slowed to a halt and dinged. A nondescript-looking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stepped inside, watching them out of the corner of his eye as he tapped away on the tablet in his hand. Loki stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the perfect picture of innocence, and Darcy shoved her hands back into her pockets, chewing on her lip once again.

She practically dragged him out of the elevator once they’d reached their level. “Look, I know you’re crazy,” she hissed, “but _seriously?_ You’re practically begging security to send in a team to take you out. Whoever’s on the other end of that thing probably thinks you were about to snap my neck.”

His brow lifted in amusement. “Perhaps I was.”

“Just shut it, Loki. _God,_ and after I made you _coffee,_ too! No good deed goes unpunished. Insufferable _ass.”_

The idea of grabbing her by the throat and slamming her against the wall briefly crossed his mind, but he refrained; it was bound to cause a scene, and in any case, when he did finally get his hands around Darcy Lewis’s neck, he’d much prefer for it to be somewhere more private.

And just like that, his imagination ran away from him, turning thoughts of petty revenge into something a bit more… satisfying. Purposefully slowing his pace, he allowed her to get ahead of him, attempting to assess her form; she was shapely, certainly, and her face was admittedly quite pretty, but that _hideous_ , baggy jacket… it would have to go.

“What are you doing back there, Mischief?” She glanced over her shoulder suspiciously, and Loki merely shrugged. “You aren’t trying to give me the slip, are you? I swear to God, I will handcuff you to me if I have to. I’m not about to mess up and lose you on my first day.”

He _wanted_ to make a suggestive comment about the handcuffs, but something else had captured his attention. “First day?”

She gave a half-hearted hum of acknowledgement. “Yeah. I’m like, kind of supposed to be your escort now, I guess. Apparently I stumbled my way into a pretty high security clearance with S.H.I.E.L.D., so they want to keep me around, and I can put it down as being a ‘liason’ or something on my resume. It’s closer to my major than whatever I was doing for Jane, anyway.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly, sending him a warning look, “I can toss you back at any time. Jane’s got plenty for me to help with, literally all she does is work. I just thought this might be… I don’t know. Something different, I guess. Not that creating space portals isn’t cool or anything, I just don’t think it’s my thing.”

“I don’t need a keeper, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you do. You _one-hundred-percent_ need a keeper. The ‘God of _Mischief’_ is _literally_ your title. And honestly, your options are me, Big Brother, or probably Clint. The last time I talked to Clint, he mentioned how he still wanted to shoot you in the eyeball, so I think I’m the most appealing choice here.”

“Ah, Agent Barton. I haven’t seen him since my arrival. How _is_ he doing these days?”

“Better than Erik,” she snapped. “You’re really flippant for someone who seriously screwed up people’s heads.”

_Really?_ Loki thought, slightly bemused. She chose to criticize his use of the Mind Gem, when he had _killed_ so many? “There is very little humanity in me, mortal. It would serve you well to remember that.”

“Whatever.”

He stepped in front of her then, too quickly for her eyes to follow, and she ran straight into his chest. “Mind your tone,” he said, leaning down to her level. _“Little girl.”_

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Consider me scared into submission, _oh God of Tight Jeans and Bad Attitudes.”_

Loki paused, subtly glancing down at his attire; she was the second mortal woman to make mention of his trousers. Had he missed something? He had seen plenty of mortal men dressed this way, and while it wasn’t his ideal, it certainly should not stand out...

“Can we go?” Darcy bit out, looking at him like she thought he’d lost his mind.

He blinked. “Yes.”

She walked around him and continued down the hall, her back ramrod-straight. “I think they want you in here,” she said, finally coming to a halt outside a conference room with a tinted viewing pane. A woman sat inside, a notepad on the table in front of her, and a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stood in the corner of the room. “I’m guessing they’re going to ask you a lot of weird questions about, like, your childhood and your family life and dreams and stuff.” She paused, hand hovering above the ID panel. “Do you want me to come in there with you?”

The offer surprised him, and while his first instinct was to refuse, as he knew she meant the gesture to be comforting, he recognized almost immediately that the girl’s presence was certain to send Fury’s minions into a tizzy. He nodded his assent.

Darcy buzzed open the door and followed him inside. Loki took a seat at the head of the conference table, waving her to the seat beside him. _My trusty right hand,_ he thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes. She slid into the chair, fidgeting with her ID lanyard.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” the pristine-looking woman began, smiling pleasantly, “I’m Dr. Penn, and this is Agent Fredricks. We are here to ask you some questions, to construct a profile of your current… state of mind. Miss Lewis, we will call you when we’re done.”

“Um, actually, I’m staying.”

Loki nearly laughed at the expression on the doctor’s face; it was clear that she had not expected to hear a peep out of little Darcy Lewis.

“Miss Lewis, I’m afraid that you do not have the necessary clearance to -”

“I would suggest giving her the necessary clearance, then,” he interrupted. “A prince simply does _not_ travel without a trusty servant -”

_“Liaison,”_ Darcy hissed.

“-without a trusty servant by his side,” Loki continued, teeth flashing. “It is simply not done. I am sure you understand.”

The doctor’s lips thinned, and she glanced back to Agent Fredricks, looking for assistance. He shrugged. “Very well, then,” she said. “If it will make you more comfortable talking to us, Mr. Laufeyson, then I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Of course, Doctor,” he purred. The woman was really rather beautiful, with short, curly blonde hair and a thin, sculpted face, and Loki had no doubt that she was meant to tempt him, a pretty shoulder for him to cry on. _So transparent._ “How can I help you?”

Dr. Penn jotted something down on her notepad and shuffled through a stack of papers. “Let’s see,” she said, pulling out a page and scanning it. “Mr. Laufeyson, tell me about your relationship with your parents.”

Darcy heaved a sigh, and Loki grinned. “I would be happy to,” he said, and then he launched into his tale of woe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic had the best response of any first chapter I've ever posted... y'all are amazing! It seriously puts me in the best writing mood ever, and I always love hearing your comments! <3
> 
> (p.s. for those who read my other works... I know it's been forever, but I swear Gladiator!Loki will be back in a couple of days!)
> 
>  


	3. Sweat & Scarlet

“I’m pretty sure everything you just said in there was a lie,” Darcy said once they’d reached the lift, frowning up at him.

“Not entirely. I _do_ hate Odin, and I _did_ love my mother.”

“Yeah, but you made it sound like…”

“An Oedipus complex, I know.” He snickered at her expression. “I am _brilliant,_ Miss Lewis. I am well-acquainted with antiquated Midgardian psychology. Besides, that will give them something entertaining to report, and I do _hope_ they relay their findings to Thor.”

“You’re the worst,” she said, but he thought he saw her lips twitch in an almost-smile.

“Perhaps the lovely Dr. Penn will find it necessary to call me in for more frequent sessions,” Loki said, watching the girl carefully out of the corner of his eye. “Perhaps in her tender care, I can find healing and _redemption.”_

Darcy looked irritated. “Yeah, well, you can just go by yourself next time, then.”

 _How delightful._ “Perhaps I will.” The lift dinged, and they emerged on a floor that was as yet unfamiliar. Loki followed her down the empty hallway.

“There is a gym that you can use on this level. I’m assuming you work out.”

He realized that she was glancing furtively at his biceps, and Loki preened. There may be benefits to his new wardrobe, after all. “Occasionally.” Then, in a moment of inspiration, he added, “Would you care to join me, Miss Lewis?”

“Uh, I’m not super fit, actually. I guess I should probably work on that. This job seems like it may have a lot of occupational hazards. Like, I should probably learn to run.”

The gym was large, with various contraptions scattered about, and Loki assumed that it must be one of many; he doubted that the rest of the Avengers would wish to train alongside him, save for his brother. “You cannot _run?”_

“Well, I mean, not super _fast_ or anything. I’ve managed to survive so far.”

“Hmm.” He poked a button on one of the machines - _treadmill,_ his mind supplied - and turned towards her expectantly. “Go on, then. Show me what you can do.”

“What, now?”

“Is there any reason to delay?”

“There are several, actually, _Loki._ For one thing, I’m not dressed for it. And neither are you.”

Turning from the treadmill, Loki stepped closer to the girl, forcing her to look up at him. “Shall we undress, then, _Darcy?”_

She spun on her heel and marched back into the hallway, and he followed after her, a laugh on his lips. “We can come back tonight,” she announced, though she kept her gaze fixed firmly in front of her. “Before dinner. You’d better stop pissing me off, though, buddy, because if I don’t feel like escorting you, I’m gonna get the meanest, most trigger-happy agent I can find.”

“And give up on your new task so soon? What a shame.” Darcy stepped back into the elevator, ignoring him. “Where are we going now?”

“I’m taking you back to your room, and then I’m gonna go get something to eat. You probably didn’t realize this, _Silvertongue,_ but you spent like three and a half hours lying to that shrink. I need a snack and a break.”

“I will accompany you,” Loki offered, kicking himself as soon as the words had escaped his mouth. Was he truly so afraid of being alone with his thoughts? “Or we can retrieve something on the way and retire to my suite. Miss Potts assured me that I will receive access to the internet today.” He grinned. “And without supervision, I am liable to get up to terrible mischief while I wait.”

Darcy gave him a strange look, and he feared that he’d overplayed his hand. “Alright,” she said, pushing a different button on the elevator. “To the cafeteria, it is. Let’s see how you handle crowds, Mischief.”

They stepped out into a large, open room, a food court filled with tables and lines of agents and Stark employees. It was a bit of an assault to his senses, and while the stares he received didn’t exactly _bother_ him, the whole thing did seem a bit _unnecessary._ “We could have gone back to the kitchen near the laboratory.”

“I thought you _liked_ creating spectacles.” There was a smugness to her words, though she looked far more nervous from all of the attention than Loki felt.

“And _I_ thought you wanted to keep me out of trouble. This is simply _asking_ for trouble.”

“You better not start anything, I swear to God.” She collected their food quickly, an odd assortment of sandwiches and pastries and plastic containers of soups and vegetables. “And you’re gonna pay me back for this. I don’t have a limitless tab, you know.”

She checked them out at the register, and Loki scanned the room while she did so, enjoying the way that most of the mortals averted their gaze when his eyes fell upon them. All save for one - Darcy’s lackey appeared to be working up the nerve to approach. Crossing his arms, Loki tried to look as unwelcoming as possible; it seemed to work, and Ian diverted to another table. _Pitiful._

He wondered, as they made their way into his suite, if anyone had bothered to inform her that there were no functioning security cameras. Did she assume that someone was watching over them at all times, ensuring that she was kept safe from harm? It seemed terribly unwise.

“I don’t get why your place is nicer than mine,” she groused, searching his cabinets. “But they really didn’t leave you anything to eat, did they? Jeez.”

Darcy took a seat on one of the couches without so much as a _by-your-leave_ and started unloading their meal onto the coffee table. He could incapacitate her now and take her form and her badge, he mused. Loki had no doubt that he could make it quite far before S.H.I.E.L.D. caught wind of the deception.

“Okay, so I got a roast beef and a chicken club. Which one do you want?” He did not respond, too caught up in his scheming, and Darcy looked up. “Mischief?”

Loki blinked. Doing anything now would be too hasty; if she was comfortable with him, she was certain to come back to his chambers alone again. And besides, the more time he spent around her, the easier it would be to imitate her mannerisms. “The roast,” he said.

“Knew it. That seems a lot more medieval-ly. _Hey,_ I should see if I can get permission to take you and Thor to the Renaissance Faire this summer. That would be amazing.”

He had no idea what she was trying to say, but his curiosity was piqued by the concept of leaving the Tower. If they thought him tame enough to let little Miss Lewis lead him into the city with minimal supervision… the possibilities were endless.

“What is the rest of this?” Loki asked, sitting on the opposite end of her couch - close, but not close enough to be obviously threatening. He wanted to make her _nervous,_ but he didn’t want her to run.

“Chicken noodle soup, tomato soup, croissants, I think I grabbed two kinds of salad, _aaand_ some steamed veggies. I figured you needed to make up for all that bacon this morning.” Her brow furrowed. “Do gods take vitamins?”

“No. I think you will find that I am much more hardy than you seem to believe, Miss Lewis.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t wanna be the one who lets the one-of-a-kind alien god die because he didn’t get enough leafy greens or something. It’s not like they gave me a list of dietary instructions for a _Frost Giant.”_

Loki’s eyes flashed, though the girl did not seem to mean it as an insult, but merely a statement of fact. _So,_ he thought, _they all know._ But of course they did; Thor had always been useless at keeping anything to himself. It had gotten them in trouble countless times, and Loki’s lies had become even better to compensate.

“Did I say something? I’m not _actually_ gonna force-feed you spinach or anything.” Darcy looked worried, and Loki realized that his hand was clenched in a fist.

“No,” he replied, and then he smiled as he forced his tense muscles to relax. “Thank you, Miss Lewis.”

Was that a blush? It certainly looked like it. “You’re welcome,” she said, averting her eyes. “And you’re still gonna have to pay me back.”

She was not shy about tucking into her own food, and Loki remembered his refusal to share breakfast with her. _Well,_ he thought, _she should have made something for herself._ Perhaps she had been too nervous then, though she certainly seemed much more relaxed now.

And then, he had a _brilliant_ idea. “When they bring my tablet, I will be able to make purchases and stock up on necessities. Would you care to assist me?”

“You need help online shopping?”

“No. But it might be entertaining.”

“What are you shopping _with,_ anyway?” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t steal one of Tony’s credit cards, did you?”

“I am being _paid_ for my services.”

“How much?”

“Much more than you. Stark has set me up rather nicely here.” He spread his arms on the back of the couch, ignoring the slight twinge of pain in his chest as the movement stretched the skin of his still-healing wound. “I am a valuable asset.”

 _That_ made her puff up; it was really delightfully easy to push the girl’s buttons. “And I’m not?”

Loki smiled. “I suppose we shall see.”

“Spoiled brat.” She turned on the television, clearly pouting.

Oh, but he _liked_ this; the more he allowed her these little indiscretions, the more relaxed she became in his presence, and it hadn’t even been a full day yet. Loki had no doubts that Darcy Lewis would be completely enthralled in no time at all.

One of Stark’s employees came by before long, the promised tablet in hand, an agent hovering protectively in the doorway. “Here you go, sir,” he said, an eager sort of nervousness trembling across his frame. “It’s restricted, but it should have everything you need. Mr. Stark double-checked it himself. And it has access to all of your accounts.”

The man seemed incredibly eager to please, and Loki surmised that this was likely the most exciting day he’d ever had in his boring, mortal life - perfect lackey material. _If only he still had the Mind Gem._ He would have to rely on charm, instead, and he looked down at the man’s ID badge. “Thank you, Mr. Agarwal.”

Startled, the tech glanced down to his badge, as if he’d forgotten that his identity was clearly on display. “Oh, no problem, man. Most people here just call me Vee.”

“Let’s go, Agarwal, I’ve got places to be,” the agent called out from the door, and the tech gave a wry smile.

“Well, except the S.H.I.E.L.D. guys, I guess. See you around.”

“Bye!” Darcy called from the couch. Once the door shut, she regarded him with an incredulous expression. “Were you just _pleasant?”_

“Have I not been pleasant all day, Miss Lewis?”

She rolled her eyes, sticking out a demanding hand. “Just let me see the gadgetry.”

“Patience.” Loki sat back down beside her, just a little closer this time, tapping away at the screen. With a swipe of his fingers, the display appeared on the television screen. “Now, let’s go on a spree.”

He turned to find her wide-eyed. “Woah, dude, look at you go. Thor can’t even use the phone without a play-by-play guide.”

“Unsurprising. He has a very limited skillset.”

“Coming from you, that almost sounds complimentary. So, what is all this? It looks kinda like Amazon, but… not.”

“It is for provisions,” he said. “That is what the application said, at least.”

“Pretty sure Tony named it that just to mess with you for sounding all old-timey and stuffy. It looks like this is part of whatever portal HR and everybody else important in the Tower uses to order stuff, considering the ‘Stark Industries’ logo on the top of the page.”

“Yes, but it also has my name.”

“He must’ve had them set you up your own account. _Fancy._ Let’s get you some groceries.” She seemed excited, and Loki congratulated himself on his plan; really, all Darcy Lewis wanted was to be _helpful._ He could give her that easily enough.

Once she’d taken care of everything she considered ‘food essentials,’ Darcy began to browse a bit more. “Do you have shampoo?” she asked. “Conditioner? Heck, did they give you a toothbrush, even?”

He blinked at her. She was thorough, at least. “No.”

“Okay. You seem like an _Herbal Essences_ kinda guy, so I’m gonna go with that.” Loki saw her lips twist into a smirk, and he assumed that she was making some joke at his expense. It was strangely endearing.

“Do _you_ need anything, Miss Lewis? I do owe you for the meal, after all.”

Darcy hummed in thought. “Well, I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. You can just pay me back later. Buy me a pumpkin spice latte or something, I’m secretly basic as hell.”

Loki did not recognize what most of those words were supposed to mean. “As you wish.”

“Oh! That gives me a fantastic idea. _Entertainment.”_ She pulled up a different page. “Let’s get you some books and dvds and stuff. Maybe sign you up for Netflix. This place looks pretty bleak, to be honest. We need to spice things up.”

“I do not think that Midgardian literature is-“

“You’ll live, Mischief. Seriously, _when in Rome…_ and it sounds like you have basically unlimited money, so it’s no loss even if you _don’t_ like it.”

He decided to humor her; he could always just ignore whatever it was she planned to purchase. “Alright.”

“This is so cool; I’m basically designing your life from scratch.” Loki was going to say something sharp in response to that, but then she looked up and grinned at him - a true, _genuine_ smile - and he found himself momentarily befuddled.

But then her phone vibrated on the table, and the moment passed almost instantly. “Shoot,” she said. “I forgot that Ian said he’d check in around lunchtime. I’d better go.”

 _Don’t leave,_ Loki thought, a strange sort of desperation curling through him at the idea of being alone again with only his own mind for company; with the mortal’s mindless chatter crowding his brain, he could almost tune out everything _else._ “Will you send someone to escort me to the training room before dinner?”

Darcy looked surprised. “No, I’ll come back myself.”

 _Relief_. “I look forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

Loki tended to believe that cleaning was best left to servants, but since he had little else to do, he tidied up the remnants of their meal. Then, he fiddled with his tablet, searching for every word and phrase Darcy had used that was unfamiliar to him; he did not enjoy the sensation of being lost during a conversation. He managed to while away several hours reading about modern Midgardian culture, finally dropping the device on the couch with a disdainful sneer; why did he even _care?_

He didn’t - that was his answer - but he needed to understand them if he wanted to overcome them. This odd _normalcy_ that his little liaison afforded him would surely help to disarm the Avengers, particularly his foolish, sentimental brother, who was always looking for the _good_ in him…

After that, he closed his eyes and thought of some good stories to tell the psychiatrist when he went back, for he was _certain_ that they’d call him back; he would have to find something particularly sympathetic. The woman seemed incredibly eager to work with him, and he supposed that he must be a bit of a resume-builder.

And it would give him the opportunity to tease Miss Lewis. Jealousy was a powerful tool, and he intended to use it to his advantage - lure her in, trick her into forming an attachment, and use her to escape.

Truthfully, though, teasing Miss Lewis was something Loki was rather looking forward to for his own selfish reasons, as well; she was a pretty little thing, and if he was going to be spending a significant time stuck working with the mortals, _well,_ he might as well make the most of it. In fact, he was strongly tempted to do more than _tease._

When she eventually showed up at his door, he purposefully took his time answering it, deciding that there was no need to seem too eager. She had changed into some sort of thin, tight, calf-length trousers and a light blue cotton shirt that was printed with a drawing of her planet and the words ‘Stark Industries Earth Day 2010.’ _What in Hel’s name is ‘Earth Day?’_

“Ready to go?” she began as he opened the door, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail. “Dude, you aren’t even dressed.”

“I did not think it necessary.”

“Are these the only clothes they left you?”

“No.”

“Let me see.”

He allowed the girl into his bedroom; or rather, he trailed behind her as she waltzed in uninvited. Loki did not mind overly much, as he was becoming something of a fan of watching her walk. _Particularly_ in this new outfit.

“That T-shirt is fine,” she informed him as she rifled through the dresser drawers, “but you don’t wanna work out in jeans. Trust me. Here, try these.”

The material of the breeches she tossed to him was slick and stretchy, and he had to admit that it seemed far more breathable than what he was currently wearing. “Alright,” he said, unfastening his belt.

Darcy turned scarlet and hurried to the door. “I’ll be outside.”

She was looking out the window when he emerged moments later, taking in the dimming sky as the sun set over the city. “I have an interior room, you know. No cityscape views for me. Not that you can ever see the stars here, anyway, since there’s so much light pollution.” Turning back to him, she added, “Maybe I should ask Tony if we can trade.”

“I think not,” Loki retorted. “Besides, I do not think you would enjoy having a door that locked from the outside.”

“Oh. Well, no, I guess you’re right. I kinda forgot about that part. The whole ‘genocidal war criminal’ thing.” Her pretty lips twisted into a frown as she led him out of the room and back to the elevator, as if it disturbed her to realize how easily she’d become friendly with him. That was a good sign, in his opinion; it showed that there was no artifice to her actions.

“Show me how fast you can run,” he ordered once they’d reached their destination. “I will see to it that you’re soon able to outpace any monster that hunts after you, Miss Lewis.” He smiled. “Save, perhaps, for _me.”_

“Well, that’s… kinda nice _and_ kinda creepy.” Darcy hopped onto the treadmill. “You aren’t just gonna stand there and watch me, are you?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s… you know what? _Fine._ Let’s get this over with.”

She punched a few buttons and the machine sped to life, and Loki hovered beside her, watching her impassively. Darcy began to turn pink after around ten minutes, her breath coming in heavy pants. “Is this _really_ as quickly as you can go, Miss Lewis? _Four_ miles per hour?”

Glaring at him, she hit the red button and the machine slowed to a stop. “I didn’t say I was _good_ at it,” she snapped. “Actually, I _specifically_ said that I wasn’t.”

“Keep going,” Loki said. “Imagine that I am chasing after you with deadly intent, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t,” she muttered, but she turned the machine back on anyway.

He left her to it, crossing the room to vent some of his pent-up aggression on the punching bag. It was strangely cathartic, and he must’ve lost track of time, for Darcy suddenly appeared at his side, panting and red-faced. “I think that’s all the running I can take, Mischief. Let’s try-“ and then she froze as he turned to her, eyes wide. “What the hell is _that?”_ she asked shrilly, pointing at his chest.

Startled, Loki looked down to find a dark crimson stain blooming across the thin fabric of his shirt. _Damn._ With a twitch of his fingers, the stain was hidden, and he smiled placatingly. “I must’ve reopened an old wound. It is nothing to fret over, Miss Lewis.”

“Are you _serious?_ We’re going to the clinic. You probably need stitches. Does Thor know?”

Gritting his teeth, Loki realized that the girl likely wasn’t the type to let this sort of thing go so easily. “Thor knows that I was _impaled_ only days ago, yet here I stand. I am _perfectly_ capable of handling the situation.” He stepped closer, crowding into her space. “And you will speak of it to no one. Do you understand?”

Darcy bit down on her lip; it was a pleasant distraction, for now that the adrenaline began to wear off, he could feel the sting of the reopened wound. “Well, let’s at least go back to your room so that we can take a look at it.”

 _“We_ aren’t going to take a look at anything. It is healing quickly enough; had I been mortal, I can assure you that I would already be dead.”

“Let’s go back to your room anyway.”

Loki frowned, but he followed her lead, for Darcy seemed oddly subdued, and it was a bit unsettling. It was almost as if she was _genuinely_ worried about him. He did not understand it.

He felt a flicker of irritation when she used her badge to open his door, reminded once again that he could not come and go as he pleased, but he pushed the emotion aside. “Look,” she said once they were inside, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… take off your shirt.”

“My, my, _Darcy._ Are you this forward with your lackey? It is no wonder that he is smitten.”

“Just do it, _Your Highness.”_

Though it was said bitingly, he still rather liked the sound of that, and he grinned at her as he peeled off the thin shirt.

She waved her hand. “Get rid of the magic disguise stuff,” she demanded. “I _know_ you’re bleeding, dude. No point in hiding it.”

 _Yes, there is,_ he thought, but he allowed the glamor fade from his chest, though he kept his face safely shielded; no need for her to see how sickly and weak he looked. Darcy gasped, and Loki balled up the ruined shirt in his fist. “Are you satisfied?”

“That looks… awful,” she finally managed, turning slightly pale.

“Coming back from the brink of death takes time, mortal, even for me.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D, doesn’t know about this? They didn’t examine you?”

“No, and there is nothing they could do that I cannot.”

“God, Loki. I’m going to at least go get a bandage or something from the first-aid kit. You can’t just keep bleeding all over everything.”

“First-aid kit?”

“Every room has one, I’m guessing that includes yours. They were apparently installed after… well, after you showed up with the alien army.” Darcy took off to his bedroom before he could protest, emerging moments later with a clear box in her hands. “Under the bathroom counter,” she said. “And I saw your clothes on the floor. It looks like you were slaughtered.”

“That is a fairly accurate assessment.” Perhaps this was for the best, Loki decided. If Darcy was so concerned with his injuries, then he could play up the sympathy angle. “I did not expect to survive.”

She took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to her. “Come sit. Man, how’s _this_ for job experience, huh? ‘Treating space-elf-inflicted battle wounds.’ That would make a cover letter pretty hard to ignore.”

Wincing slightly as she pressed a large adhesive bandage to his chest, he asked, “Do you truly plan to seek employment elsewhere?”

“What do you mean?”

“To be frank, Miss Lewis, I doubt that your delightful Director Fury would allow you to leave without a fuss. You have access to too much sensitive information.” He tapped on his chest. “Case in point.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about that. S.H.I.E.L.D. does have a way of twisting arms… that’s how Jane ended up here, and Bruce.” Shrugging, Darcy packed up the medical kit and carried it back to the bathroom. “I guess I can just be an alien babysitter forever,” she called over her shoulder.

“Here.” Re-emerging from his bedroom, she tossed him another, nearly-identical shirt. “You’re gonna want to get dressed. We’re eating with the family.”

Oh, he did _not_ like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it's a Friday. On Fridays, all the _special people_ eat dinner in Tony’s penthouse for like, team bonding and stuff. I’m usually not a _special people,_ but I guess I am now. This is only like my third time being invited.”

“I have no interest in attending.”

“C’mon, man, your groceries aren’t here yet! And it’ll be good for you. Socialization is important. Plus, Jane and Bruce will be there, and you can ask them about what you’ll be working on, because I honestly have no clue.”

“And,” Darcy continued as he remained stone-faced, “I’ll give you a reward if you behave, even though I really doubt you can. Positive reinforcement.”

“What _sort_ of reward?”

The glint in his eye must’ve set her on her guard, for she looked wary. “Nothing creepy.”

“I would never dream of it.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how you do. I’m gonna go shower and change, okay? I’ll be back in an hour, tops.”

“Wear something pretty for me, Miss Lewis.”

“You wish.” Then she stormed out the door, leaving Loki stretched out on the couch, a self-indulgent smile plastered on his face.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS. Y'all have been so sweet and it's making writing this story 100% more fun! <3  
> Hope you enjoyed this one!


	4. Conflict & Custard

Darcy Lewis reappeared at his door _exactly_ one hour later, and Loki had no doubt that she took her time simply to annoy him. He decided almost immediately that it was entirely worth the wait. While Miss Lewis had not _truly_ dressed up, the thick, long-sleeved, knee-length dress she now wore was _wonderfully_ form-fitting. And, it was _green._ Surely that was some kind of sign, even if it was not a conscious choice.

“Come on,” she said. “This is gonna be a blast. I should probably livestream it.”

Loki considered summoning up his armor, but decided against it; as odd as it felt walking into a room full of enemies while dressed so casually, he _did_ want them to underestimate him. Really, it had been quite some time since he’d been to a party; she was right - it would likely be a _blast._

Most of Earth’s little _Avengers_ were already assembled in Stark’s living room when they walked in, and the reception was... less than welcoming. Darcy snagged his arm and pulled him further into the room, and Loki decided to allow it; it was her _job,_ after all.

Banner was openly staring at him. “Nat,” he said, voice slightly strained, “what is _he_ doing here?”

“Ask Tony - this was his brilliant idea.”

“Loki’s one of the good guys now,” Darcy said brightly, practically shoving him into an armchair. He supposed she was attempting to make him look less malevolent, given his tendency for looming angrily over everyone - a clever idea, on her part, although he doubted that it would do much good. “Aren’t you, Loki?”

He glared; he wanted them to think that he was compliant, not that he was harmless. Besides, Agent Romanoff would be certain to notice if his charm seemed too genuine so soon.

“How did today go, Darcy?” Dr. Foster asked, glancing up from a sheaf of diagrams in her lap. “We missed you. Ian said that you were pretty busy.”

“Oh, you know, just making the rounds, taking our new friend here on the Tower Tour. I think I’ve got this liasoning thing in the bag. Where’s Thor? And Clint?”

“Thor is on his way back from Scotland; some kind of snow monster fell through one of the Convergence portals and S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t take it out on their own. It apparently ran off into the highlands or something. Clint is somewhere ‘undisclosed.’”

“A _snow_ monster?”

“That’s what Tony said.”

“Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear.” Stark walked into the room, flanked by Miss Potts and a man with a stack of thin boxes in his arms. “I was feeling pizza. Everybody good with pizza?”

“Pizza sounds perfect.” It was the first thing Rogers had said since Loki had entered the room; he seemed to be doing his best to ignore his presence.

“Good, because I got ten. All you genetically modified alien superhero types are gonna bleed me dry. I’m not made out of money, you know.”

Romanoff rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you are. And you talk about it _all_ the time.”

“So,” Stark said, eyes alighting on Loki with an amused expression, though there was something of a challenge there, as well, “how is life treating our newest Avenger?”

“He is _not_ an Avenger,” Rogers said, arms crossed. “He’s the guy we assembled to avenge _against.”_ Loki glared, annoyed at the man’s oozing air of self-righteousness, as he added, “I don’t trust you, and I don’t want you on my team.”

How best to rankle him? Loki decided that being affable was a good option - if his mere presence was so grating, then _by the Norns,_ he was going to make sure they were unable to ignore that he was present. Darcy perched herself on the wide arm of his chair, surprisingly close, and he realized that she was essentially attempting to use herself as a human shield. Whether it was to protect _him_ or the mortals, he couldn’t be certain.

“It has been _delightful,”_ he replied to Stark, smiling thinly. “I confess that I did not expect to receive a personal servant-“

_“Liaison!”_

“-but she has proven to be useful, so far.”

She shoved him (or attempted to, really - the effort moved her more than him), and the entire room visibly tensed. Miss Lewis did not seem to notice, and Loki’s mind raced. He couldn’t seem _too_ relaxed in her presence yet - they would find it suspicious - but he also could not afford to truly put her in her place as she deserved. _How vexing._

He grabbed one of her wrists instead, lightning-fast, jerking her close. “Try to keep your hands to yourself, Miss Lewis,” he sneered, enjoying her wide-eyed look of startled fear so greatly that he momentarily forgot why he’d done it in the first place. “If you can manage it.”

Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff both looked poised to make a move, but Darcy spoke before they had the chance, frowning down at him with surprising regality. “If you want me to keep making you coffee, _buddy,_ then you better let go _right_ now.”

Loki was unable to contain a small huff of laughter at that; oh, the _audacity!_ Releasing her fragile wrist, he lounged back in his chair, arms crossed, allowing his expression to smooth back into irritated boredom.

“See?” she said, rolling her eyes, “we have a pretty good understanding.”

“Cancel the cable subscription, Pep,” Stark said, making his way over to the bar. “I don’t think we’re gonna need it anymore.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner was a tiresome affair, but he managed without causing too much chaos, ever-curious to find out what little Darcy Lewis might come up with to _reward_ him for his good behavior. For the most part, he sat and sulked, which was easy enough to do convincingly, since he really did not want to have to deal with any of the mortals in the first place. In fact, he would happily end each and every one of them, if it proved opportune.

Pizza was acceptable, he decided, and he ate one of the things in its entirety, watching the mortals around him carefully as he did so, trying to decide where best to push and prod and unsettle them. Darcy was the greatest weakness, really - she was only human, with no special powers or skills to defend herself from him, and she certainly seemed to have a dangerous sense of ease in his presence. Miss Potts was a vulnerability to them, as well, for she was just as fragile, and Stark clearly worshipped the ground she walked on, no matter how flippant he might act.

_Sentiment._

None of the others necessarily _wanted_ him there, but Stark seemed curious, at least. Loki knew that the man feared him, and while he was glad of it, he also felt that he would be the best one of them to try to convince that he was amicable; Stark clearly thought of himself as something of a leader, and Loki suspected that he held enough influence to extend the boundaries of his prison.

Rogers, on the other hand, seemed morally offended that Loki was even in the Tower at all, and Banner seemed similarly on-edge, though he was actually taking it more calmly than Loki had anticipated. He was thankful for it, for he had no desire to encounter the green monster up-close ever again. And as for Romanoff… well, he knew she hated him for what he’d done to Agent Barton, and he knew that she did not trust him, but she was also well-acquainted with working with allies she did not trust. He would consider tricking her to be a special quest, in and of itself.

Darcy suddenly appeared back on his armrest, having abandoned her seat at Dr. Foster’s side. “Are you actually watching the movie?” she whispered, “or are you just staring at the screen? Because it’s a comedy, and you look kind of evil right now.”

“Of course I am not _watching the movie,”_ he replied, voice dripping with disdain. “Why would I?”

“To relax! Look, you’re with us now, whether you like it or not, and you might as well try to focus on something that isn’t miserable, right?”

“Or,” he said, turning towards her with a look of practiced innocence, “I could content myself with fantasies of killing you all in various vivid, highly-entertaining ways.”

Her teeth sunk into her lip for a moment as she regarded him, then her eyes narrowed as she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. “Very funny, wiseguy.”

“It is _precious,_ Miss Lewis, that you think that I jest.”

“Do you want to just go back to your room, then?”

“No. I do not have a _key,_ if you’ll recall. Besides, I am earning my reward.”

“I mean, I’ll walk you back.” Frowning, she added, “And I don’t know if I’d consider this rewardable behavior, honestly.”

“Oh, no, you will _not_ be reneging on our deal. I have been _excruciatingly_ pleasant this entire time, have I not? Have I caused any chaos? Killed anyone? Thrown our host out of a window?”

“But the point was for you to _engage,_ not to sit there pouting like a wet cat.”

“That was never specified. Perhaps you should put your bargains in writing, next time.”

“Written in blood, probably,” she muttered. “You ancient deity types are such weirdos. That’s a song, you know. _Written in Blood._ I’m guessing you’ve never heard it, but I think it’d fit your style pretty well. You seem pretty gothic-rock.”

Loki stared at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she was completely oblivious to the attention she was garnering by sitting so close to him and rambling on in whispers. “Now _you_ are the one not paying attention to the film, Miss Lewis.”

She shrugged. “I’ve seen it before.”

“What’s going on over there, Austen?” Stark suddenly called from across the room, blatantly nosy. Confused, Loki looked to Darcy; but then, he never understood half of Stark’s ridiculous nicknames. He’d have to ask her later.

“I’m trying to convince Loki to appreciate Earthly pastimes. Next time, we should watch something classic, like _The Princess Bride._ He’s gotta see that.”

“I was thinking he’d be more of an epic fantasy guy,” Stark replied, now entirely distracted from the film. “He’s basically a LARPing dream come true. Maybe the newest _Hobbit_ movie?” Loki tensed in irritation; he hated being spoken of as if he was not sitting _right there._

 _“Zodiac_ seems more like his style,” Dr. Foster said distractedly, her eyes ever-fixed on her tablet, and Agent Romanoff laughed.

He despised being out of the loop, to be the one who failed to get the joke. Before he’d had time to question the wisdom of showing that he was even paying attention to their foolish little conversation, he asked, _“Zodiac?”_

“It’s about a serial killer,” Banner supplied, taking him by surprise; he’d thought that the monster had committed to ignoring him entirely. “One that they never caught.”

“That’s a good one,” Stark said, wrapping his arm around Miss Potts. “We can add it to the list.”

“I’m sorry,” Rogers said suddenly, irritation coloring his tone, “but are we _really_ all going to just ignore the fact that we’re discussing movies with the man who tried to take over the world? That killed _hundreds_ of people?”

“Forgive me, _Captain,”_ Loki sneered, “but is there no blood on your _avenging_ hands?”

“You killed innocent people,” he shot back. _“Civilians._ And you don’t even see what’s wrong with that, because you _think_ you’re a god.”

“Perhaps when you have lived for _millennia,_ Captain, you can talk to me about the value of mortal life.”

He felt a light pressure on his shoulder and glanced over to find Miss Lewis’s hand upon his person, realizing only then that he’d begun to lean forward in his seat. Did she _really_ think she could restrain him? Was she _actually_ stupid, or simply impulsive?

“Oookay,” she said slowly, her fingers digging into the thin material of his shirt. “I think that’s our cue to head out for the night.”

Dr. Foster finally looked up from her work. “Don’t go, Darce. One of the security guys can take him back.”

 _I am not a child,_ Loki thought, fuming. He resisted the urge to swat her hand away, promising himself that he’d pay her back, sooner or later.

“Nah, it’s been a long day. No work tomorrow, right? Officially, at least?”

“I mean… I’m _me,_ Darcy.” She looked almost apologetic as she said it. “So I’ll probably be in the lab.”

“Jane, you are _terrible_ at weekends.”

“I know. But Bruce is, too.” Her lips pulled up in a faint smile. “And you can come by, Loki, if you want, get an idea of what we’re working on before your actual first day.”

Loki blinked in surprise, his ire momentarily forgotten. Was Jane Foster, Thor’s precious mortal, actually _smiling_ at him? He supposed saving her life on Svartalfheim must’ve earned him some favor. “I will consider it,” he said, and he saw a small smirk of triumph flash across his handler’s face. “Let’s be off, Miss Lewis.”

He could feel eyes on his back as he abruptly stood and strode from the room, eager to be free of the entire lot of them. Light footsteps chased after him, and Darcy was soon at his elbow. “There’s no reason to run off without me,” she said. “It’s not like you can go anywhere alone, you know. You’d just be stuck at the elevator until I caught up.”

“You should learn to keep up, then. A good servant anticipates her master’s every move.”

She grabbed his arm, yanking as hard as she could to halt his progress, but the effect was minimal, aside from stirring his already-thin temper. “I am _not_ your servant, and that’s really starting to piss me off.”

 _That’s it._ Loki halted, turning towards her with what he hoped was an unnerving smile. “Is that so, Darcy Lewis? Are you _bothered_ by this situation?” Her lips parted to reply, but he slapped her offending hand away before she could, capturing her wrist and twisting it behind her back as he pressed her against the wall.

As he pinned her between the metal and his chest, Loki realized that she was shaking, and as happy as he was to see her finally showing some respectable amount of _fear,_ he also felt a bit… regretful. He really shouldn’t let his emotions influence him so easily; it would only serve to disrupt his plans. However, despite the voice of rationality berating him in his head, he somehow couldn’t seem to stem the tide.

“I _hate_ mortals,” he said. “I _hate_ Midgard, and I _hate_ being stuck here working with your precious _Avengers.”_

“Let go,” she hissed, “before the cavalry comes running to the rescue.”

Well, that was a fair point; he was actually surprised that someone hadn’t appeared _immediately._ Were they offering her up as a sacrifice, some sort of bait to see how far he would allow himself to be pushed before he snapped? Discreetly glancing up at the security cameras, Loki released her and stepped back, and Darcy turned on him immediately, rubbing her wrist.

Maybe he’d been a bit too rough.

“Do you hate _me?”_ she asked, and he saw a faint sheen of outraged tears in her eyes as she glared up at him.

He found the question baffling. “You are mortal,” he said slowly, cocking his head to the side. Did she truly believe that there was any reason that he _wouldn’t?_ Still, it seemed too… _harsh,_ somehow, to say it more directly.

They stood there in awkward silence for a breath or two, and then she turned, shaking her head. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s just go.”

The elevator ride was almost painfully silent, and Loki felt a bizarre need to say something, just to break the tension; he refrained - why should he care that he’d frightened her? She knew the risks of her job when she’d taken it, and it was her own mouth that had gotten her into trouble. It wasn’t his fault. But then he thought of the long, lonely, nightmare-filled night that awaited him, and he felt an uncomfortable twist of anxiety curl through his chest. What if she didn’t come back?

When they reached his room, it seemed as though she intended to simply buzz him in and walk away without another word, and he couldn’t allow that, could he? “Did I hurt you?” he asked, hesitating in the open doorway.

She brandished her arm, a faint reddish ring around her wrist. “Yeah, you did. Congratulations, your supervillain strength is _super_ impressive. Is that what you want to hear?”

He cringed. “No,” he replied, extending his hand. “I will heal it.”

If he’d expected her gratitude, or for her to be impressed with his magnanimous offer, Loki was to be sorely disappointed, for Darcy Lewis puffed up in a temper, eyes flashing. “You know what? _No._ You don’t get to practically break my wrist and then just wipe it away and pretend it didn’t happen. I’m not gonna fall for that.”

Loki withdrew his hand, flummoxed. “Will you be back in the morning?”

“I don’t have to work on the weekends,” she snapped, and then she pressed a button on the control panel and he sprang back to avoid his door as it decisively slammed shut.

 

* * *

 

It was midnight, and Loki paced.

Some part of him had expected her to come back and either apologize for her behavior, or to try to seek an apology for his, or for him to receive word that he’d been assigned a new handler. Another part of him expected S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to come bursting through his door, hungry for his blood. He _knew_ there was someone on the other end of those cameras - did they not care if Darcy Lewis was maimed or killed, or did they simply think him incapable of the act?

He stared out of his window, another thought occurring: perhaps Director Fury was unhappy to allow the God of Lies to remain under Stark’s care with such relatively-lax supervision. Perhaps they were gathering proof that more _drastic_ measures were needed to keep him in check, to make a case to remove him fully into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody.

Scowling, he turned from the window, wondering what Thor would say to that. Thor seemed to have a soft spot for mortal women in particular, so he’d likely be appalled at Loki’s manhandling, especially since the mortal in question was one of his _friends._ Why Thor would want to make friends with such pathetic creatures, Loki would never understand.

Refusing to watch any more Midgardian entertainment, he decided that he might as well try out his bed. He stripped and crawled between the sheets, a frown marring his features as he noticed the bandage on his chest.

_Weakness._

And then he thought of  Darcy Lewis, genuine concern on her face as she’d demanded to tend to him, and how she’d refused his care when he’d carelessly injured her. Something unpleasant twisted in his heart.

 _Weakness_.

Cursing his fate, he rolled to his side, burying his head in a pillow. Come morning, he would have to fix it.

 

* * *

 

His dreams were unpleasant but overall unremarkable, and Loki opened his eyes slowly, staring at the smooth white ceiling overhead. Everything hurt: his chest, his head, his muscles, his _bones…_ squeezing his eyes shut, he wondered momentarily if he should just stay there, flat on his back, waiting for the world to move on around him.

Maybe if he somehow stopped himself from healing, he would eventually die. Could he? He was actually still rather shocked over the fact that he _wasn’t_ dead already. True, he was _extraordinarily_ difficult to kill in most circumstances, but being stabbed clean through the torso by a cursed, ancient hell-beast seemed like a particularly critical case.

Maybe it was one of the benefits of being a monster, himself.

Groaning, he pushed himself up and off of the bed, tossing his sheets aside. He frowned down at the crumpled heap of fabric for a brief moment, an unsettling visual proof of the restlessness of his sleep. It was set to rights with a wave of his hand, and he straightened his back, ignoring the way the movement pulled on the delicate healing skin around his wounds.

 _Stand tall, Loki,_ he told himself, but the heavy weight on his shoulders grew worse yet when he stood before his bathroom mirror, examining his un-glamored face. He looked horrid.

He peeled the bandage away, wincing slightly at the sting of the adhesive tugging free from his skin. After he showered, he’d have to bandage it again, and he should likely put one on his back, as well; he could not risk bleeding through onto one of Tony Stark’s designer couches.

Although, that _might_ actually prove entertaining. Loki smiled slightly at the thought. Yes, if he was going to die, he might as well ruin as much of Stark’s furniture as possible on his way out.

Today was apparently Saturday, from what he’d gathered of the mortals’ conversation, and apparently that meant that no one was supposed to work. That was entirely fine by him - he was not eager to begin working with any of them, anyway - but it did pose a problem in regards to Miss Lewis. He was relatively certain that she would not abandon her job, as she seemed impressively stubborn, but if she did not _have_ to see him on the weekends…

But _because_ she was so stubborn, was it not likely that she would make an appearance, just to try to prove to him that she was not intimidated? _Yes,_ Loki assured himself, stepping into the scalding spray of the shower, _she’ll be back._

Still, he could not entirely tamp down the buzz of anxiety in his veins as he dressed and emerged into his living room, wondering exactly _when_ she’d be back. He was no stranger to solitude, and he frequently sought it out of his own accord, but he certainly was not in the mood for it now.

It was ten o’clock, according to the digital display on his tablet, and Loki was hungry. Perhaps he should call for Agent Romanoff to bring him something - but _no,_ he decided, he would wait. Let Darcy Lewis face his wrath for shirking her duties, for not _attending_ to him properly.

He turned on the television and watched the news for a while, but it put him in a foul mood, and he switched it off before long. None of it mattered to him, in any case, and really, there was something particularly _irritating_ about listening to mortals complain about their petty issues. _Or,_ perhaps even worse, hearing them celebrate and fawn over meaningless accomplishments. _Tiresome._

The clock read half-past ten, and Loki stood abruptly, deciding that movement might be best. His restless pacing led him to his window before long, and he was immediately drawn to the scene below him, standing frozen, impatient and brooding.

His keen eyes made out the scattered forms of mortals as they hurried about far below. _Best hurry,_ he thought snidely, _before the storm comes._ For indeed it did appear that foul weather was brewing, and he couldn’t help help wonder if Thor was making his return; he always _had_ been rather showy.

He wasn’t particularly in the best mood to have _guests._

It was in this state, glowering down from on high, that Loki spotted Darcy Lewis, setting out from the Tower with her lackey in tow - _literally_ in tow, because she was _holding his hand_ as she pulled him forward.

Loki’s palm slammed against the glass, triggering the bright, rippling matrix to flare up across the entirety of the window, an unnecessary, unwanted reminder that he was trapped.

_An animal in a cage._

_So,_ that was how little Miss Lewis wished to play, was it? _Flaunting_ her freedom and her ability to simply walk away from him? Loki fumed, long fingers curling tightly into fists. Did she think to _punish_ him? _Foolish girl._

“Very well, Darcy Lewis,” he whispered, glaring darkly down at the tiny dot that was her head as she slipped from his line of sight. “Let us _play.”_

 

* * *

 

The time for breakfast passed, and then lunchtime, as well, and nothing happened. No voice came over the intercom, no one came to the door, nothing magically appeared to keep him entertained. He didn’t call for food, and none was brought to him, so Loki sprawled out on his couch and sulked.

The display read four o’clock when a knock came on his door, and though his heart leapt to his throat in eager anticipation, he halfway considered ignoring it. But, no matter how weak he knew it made him, he sprung to his feet and tried to keep himself from racing to the door.

It slid open before he’d quite reached it, and he halted abruptly in his tracks. Darcy Lewis stood in the doorway, a slightly irritated expression on her face, two paper cups clutched in her hands. She stepped inside and held one out to him as the door snapped closed behind her. “I brought you frozen custard,” she muttered. “It kinda melted.”

“I…” Loki stared at her offering, perplexed.

_She came back._

“Don’t bother saying it. I know you aren’t sorry.”

“I did not intend to apologize,” he bit out.

“Right, sure.” She frowned, waving the cup in his face. _“Take_ it, Loki, before I decide to toss it in your _stupid_ face.”

Still a bit uncertain as to how to proceed, he did as she said. Besides, he was starving, and she had food. Necessity dictated that he not bite the hand that was feeding him - at least, not _yet._

She barged past him into the living room, and Loki followed after her as she made her way to the couch, dropping into what was clearly becoming _her_ spot. He sat down beside her, trying to get her to meet his eyes.

“Go ahead and eat it,” she said, gaze stubbornly fixed on her spoon. “It’s perfect for a mid-afternoon snack, even if it’s all melty.”

“Did you acquire it on your _date?_ ” he asked waspishly, stabbing his own spoon into the cream-colored, half-slush concoction in his cup.

“Oh, look at _you,_ picking up on the Earthly lingo. And yeah, as a matter of fact, I _did.”_

His nostrils flared as he tamped down his anger, shoving a spoonful into his mouth. It was cool, and creamy, and he quite liked it, though any pleasure he might’ve derived from it was soured by the fact that she’d left him to waste away all day while she pranced about freely with a _pathetic_ mortal man.

A drop of melted custard escaped Darcy’s spoon; he could’ve caught it, but he didn’t, and she groaned in irritation as it landed on her striped dress. “Crap,” she muttered, and she placed her cup on the coffee table, getting up to go to the kitchen.

“Where did you put your paper towels?” she asked, beginning to open his cabinets. As Loki turned to watch her, she suddenly froze, her back still towards him. “Where are your groceries?”

“They did not come.”

She turned back towards him, stain entirely forgotten, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Then what have you eaten today?”

He held up the cup in his hand, shrugging slightly. “This,” he replied. Had she truly not known?

“You have an intercom! Why didn’t you _call_ someone?”

Loki shrugged again, shoveling another heaping spoonful of the custard into his mouth. _That’s it,_ he thought. _Get worked up over today, and forget about last night._ That was worth a few hunger pains, was it not?

 _“God,_ Mischief, I can’t leave you alone for even a _day,_ can I?”

“I suppose not.”

Darcy stormed over to his coffee table, snatching up his tablet. “I’m ordering takeout,” she announced. “Lots of it. And I’m using your card. And you’re gonna sit here and watch whatever I damn well please when it gets here, because you _owe_ me.”

He simply shrugged once more as she thunked down on the couch beside him, pretending to be indifferent as he attempted to hide his gloating smile.

_Checkmate, Miss Lewis._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep the comments coming, y'all! The feedback I've been getting so far has me in the ZONE with this fic <3 <3 Hope you enjoyed this latest episode {and sidenote - I could really use a frozen custard right about now}!
> 
> P.S. Keep up with me over on [Tumblr](https://maiden-of-asgard.tumblr.com/)!


	5. Mocha & Machinations

“I knew you’d like this,” she announced smugly, and Loki glared at her; food was one of the only _worthwhile_ things that Midgard had to offer, so it only stood to _reason_ that it would be more entertaining to watch their culinary programs than any of the other drivel on the television.

“When will the meal you ordered arrive?”

“It should be soon. Like, ten minutes or less.” She stood. “Come on, we can go down and meet the delivery guy downstairs. I mean, we don’t _have_ to or anything, but I thought you might want to… y’know, to get out of the box.”

“Very well.”

She’d taken off her jacket and draped it over the back of his couch shortly after she’d arrived, baring more of her arms, and Loki noticed the faint bruising around her wrist as she reached to open the door. “Just try to keep a low profile, okay? It’s the weekend, and I _really_ don’t want to deal with any crises on the weekend.”

“No crises, Miss Lewis,” he agreed, still staring at the ring of bruises. “For today, at least.”

 _Stubborn wench._ She should’ve just allowed him to fix it.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Darcy bit her lip as she glanced up at him, waiting for the elevator to arrive. “I could take you to the lab later. Or we could just watch TV.”

This offering was… unexpected, to say the least, and Loki tensed. “Are you not returning to your _date?”_ Perhaps he should’ve said it with less bitterness, because she gave him an odd look… almost as if she were trying to hide a _smile._

Loki grimaced, stepping onto the elevator as soon as it arrived.

Miss Lewis followed after him. “The _date_ is over,” she said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

 _“You_ are the one who told _me_ that you did not wish to encourage his affections.”

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged and pressed the button that would take them to the lobby; Loki wondered if she actually had permission to take him to such a _public_ area of the Tower. He sincerely doubted it. “He’s sweet, and he likes me.”

“What a _glowing_ recommendation.”

 _“You_ don’t get to talk, buddy. Do you have an actual decent relationship with _anybody?”_

That… stung, unexpectedly. Loki thought to the last time he’d seen Odin, the man he’d called _Father_ for millennia. He saw the disappointment in Frigga’s eyes when he’d denied her attempts at maternal affection.  He thought to his final encounter with Sif and the Warriors Three, who he’d _played_ with, had fought alongside for _centuries._

He pictured Thor, calling him ‘Brother’ and begging him to come home. But it wasn’t Loki’s home - it never had been. That was all a _lie._

His fists clenched. “No,” he replied. “Such attachments are for the weak.”

“Whatever.”

They stepped out into the lobby, which was busy, but not to the extent that Loki had been expecting; he supposed that it must be due to the fact that it was the weekend, and he was surprised to find that he was slightly relieved.

“Stick close to me, Mischief. And try not to throw me into a wall or anything.”

 _Ah._ So she _was_ still upset about that.

They approached the security desk, behind which sat a rather small, elderly man in a uniform. He wore wide, tinted glasses, and his face lit up in a smile when he spied Miss Lewis. “The intern!” he exclaimed. “I have something here for you.” Bending over, he retrieved two large plastic bags and handed them to her over the counter. “Seems like a big order for you, little lady.”

Darcy beamed. “Girl’s gotta eat, Mr. L. And so does this big guy.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and the old security guard seemed to notice then that Loki stood hovering a few paces behind her.

“Ah,” he said. “Good to see the two of you getting along.”

Loki blinked in confusion; had the daft old man mistaken him for someone else? He spoke as if he _knew_ him.

“Yeah, well, it’s the job.” She made her farewells and hefted the two bags, ushering Loki back the way they’d come. “See? That wasn’t so bad. Just stand there and look pretty and keep your mouth shut, and we’re golden.”

“Are you _objectifying_ me, Miss Lewis?”

“Yep.”

And just like that, the odd tension seemed to break; if she was willing to tease, then Loki was _more_ than happy to tease her back. It was certainly much easier than fretting over her motivations and her _feelings._

“That gives me a _fantastic_ idea for what we might do tonight.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare. I’m still pissed at you.”

Loki raised his hands in mock surrender. “I merely thought to suggest that we might exercise, Miss Lewis. I do need to keep in shape, after all.”

“I don’t think so. You’ll probably just rip your chest open again, and bandaging you up doesn’t sound like a very fun way for me to spend a Saturday night.”

“Fair point. I suppose we can go to the laboratory, then. I’m sure that Dr. Foster and Dr. Banner will be _delighted_ to see me.”

Darcy let them back into his suite, and they both headed for the couch; how had this become routine? And so _quickly?_

“You know,” she said, “Jane actually does think you’ve got some good qualities. She said you saved her on Svartalfheim. Like, that you _went out of your way_ to save her.”

He paused, a foam container in his hand. “I suppose.”

“Sooo… why’d you do it?”

Loki sighed, not really wishing to discuss it. “Old habits die hard, Miss Lewis. I was one of the champions of the Nine Realms for centuries, long before my fall from grace.”

“Oh.” He hoped that would put the topic to rest, but of course, Darcy persisted. “So it had nothing to do with keeping Thor from losing someone important to him?”

“Nothing at all.”

Darcy stared at him for a moment or two, then shook her head, reaching into her own bag. “You’re a weird dude, Mischief. I can’t figure you out.”

“Obviously. What is all this?”

“Well, what _you’re_ holding is shawarma. There’s a good place near here, but there’s zero chance they’re gonna let you out to actually go to it anytime soon. And I’ve got the falafels. Bunch of pitas, hummus, baklava. But mostly just shawarma, because you Asgardian guys seem to go heavy on the meats.”

“Hmm.”

She flipped the television back on and they ate; Darcy seemed to be _far_ too enthralled by watching other people bake. Mortals were so _odd._ But it _was_ somewhat entertaining, he supposed, just to have her there. After all, if she wasn’t there, what would he be doing? Brooding over things best left ignored, most likely.

“Ian thinks this job is too dangerous,” she said suddenly, her eyes still fixed on the screen. “I think everyone else is worried, too. They think you’re probably gonna murder me, I’m guessing.”

Turning slightly, Loki watched her out of the corner of his eye. “But you disagree?”

“I just can’t wrap my brain around most of this, honestly. I mean, the last few years have been so _surreal._ You tried to take over the planet, and now we’re here watching _Food Network._ It’s kind of crazy.”

“You should not let down your guard so easily.” He said it almost gently, because he _meant_ it. Let that be her one warning, in his moment of kindness; if Darcy Lewis was foolish enough to trust him, _well,_ she had no one to blame but herself.

His conscience was clear.

“Yeah, maybe.” Then she turned to him, eyes narrowing. _“Speaking of,_ where’s my taser?”

Loki grinned. “I said that you should be more cautious, not that I was going to make things easy for you.”

“The only reason you don’t want me to have it is because you know I’d knock you flat on your ass.”

“It is for your own good, then; you do not wish to start a fight with me, mortal. You wouldn’t be able to finish it.”

He’d leaned close - a predatory, natural instinct, coming to him from years upon years of experience - and he did not realize exactly _how_ close until he noticed that Miss Lewis seemed to have stopped breathing, her pupils wide.

_Fight, flight, or freeze._

And Darcy Lewis had _frozen,_ because despite all of her blustering confidence, she knew that he was dangerous, that he was _deadly;_ she knew - she _had_ to know - that he could do anything to her, if he really decided that it was what he wanted.

It was _thrilling._

It also made him feel slightly ill.

But then her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he saw her swallow nervously, and suddenly _he_ was the one frozen in place, because surely she wasn’t _actually_ thinking of kissing him, was she?

_Foolish girl._

Her eyes darted back to meet his, and she cleared her throat, a faint hint of pink tinting her cheeks. “You know, this whole ‘getting in my space and vaguely threatening me’ routine is gonna get old pretty fast. I’d appreciate some variety.”

“Would you prefer that I ‘get in your space’ and threaten you in a more _specific_ manner, Miss Lewis? I can be _excruciatingly_ detailed, if that is how you’d like it.”

Loki didn’t know why he said it - he _shouldn’t_ have said it, especially considering how she’d stormed off and left him the night before - but he couldn’t stop himself. All of this _impulsivity_ was going to be the death of him.

He might as well commit to the madness.

“Go on,” he encouraged gently. “Answer me.”

“How about I tell _you_ in _excruciating_ detail about how your big brother is gonna beat you into a pulp if you keep messing with me?”

Scoffing, he finally moved away from her, irritated that she’d managed to draw him in so easily. “Ah, yes. Thor is ever-eager to play the hero.”

“Just like _you’re_ always so eager to be the villain?” He did not deign to respond, and Darcy rolled her eyes. _“Anyways,_ we might as well go ahead and see what Bruce and Jane are up to in the lab. That’s near the coffee, too, and I want some coffee. Or maybe hot chocolate. It’s _perfect_ weather for it.”

As she stood and stretched, Loki glanced to the window; it looked cold and dreary and terribly grey, and had he been in Asgard, he likely would’ve spent the day in the library, a hot cup of tea at his side and a spellbook in his hand. _Perhaps_ coffee and tormenting his new coworkers would suffice.

“Do you need to change?” he asked. “You still have a stain on your dress, you know.”

“Oh, crap, I forgot.” Darcy pulled at the material of her dress, a perplexed frown on her face. “Well, neither of those guys are really what you’d call fashion aficionados, if you know what I mean. You should put on something a little bit different, though, if you’re really trying to act natural. Like a hoodie, or something. Blend in with the mortals.”

“A hoodie?”

“Yeah, it’s practically winter. Some sleeves would make sense.”

“But Stark Tower is climate-controlled,” Loki replied, “and I am a _Frost Giant,_ as you already know.”

“Boy, you are _bitter_ about people knowing that, aren’t you? I’ll go get one.”

Yes, he was _bitter,_ and he sat and brooded as she took off to his bedroom; _she_ could act cavalier about it, because she did not truly _understand._ Æsir, Jötnar… they were both foreign concepts to Darcy Lewis, both otherworldly races for which she really had no frame of reference. He was a monster, had always _been_ a monster, an enemy of the very throne he’d once sat upon both by blood and by birthright. How many times, as a child, had he fallen asleep to ancient tales of the Valkyrjur riding valiantly into battle to protect Asgard from the vicious giants of Jotunheim? More than he could count.

And she was too stupid to understand why he was so _bothered_ by it.

Fabric fell into his lap, and he glared up at the small mortal before him, distracted from his increasingly-tempestuous train of thought. He picked it up and pulled it on; the garment was soft and emerald-green, and it did, in fact, have a hood.

“You have to stop staring into space like that, Mischief. Or at least, don’t do it around anyone else. You look like a serial killer plotting his next serial-kill. It’s freaky.”

“I have a lot on my mind, mortal.”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she seemed to decide that it wasn’t worth the effort, and when she turned to head towards the door and (relative) freedom, Loki gracefully rolled to his feet to follow her.

The trip to the kitchen they’d previously visited was short and mostly silent; Darcy seemed to be content to allow him to sulk for a time, and Loki was determined not to be the first one to crack and initiate a conversation.

Fortunately for him, it seemed that Darcy Lewis did not particularly care for extended periods of silence, and he could _feel_ that she was itching to speak as she fidgeted with the coffee machine. “So,” she said finally, “I’m gonna make you a mocha, okay? I’m banking on food and coffee being the most effective way to win you over.”

Loki tried to suppress a startled laugh, surprised that she would be so _blatant_ about it. “You are welcome to try, Miss Lewis. I do have very large _appetites.”_

Darcy muttered something that sounded suspiciously similar to _‘predictable,’_ and his eyes narrowed. “Here,” she said, spinning around to shove a rather large, horrifically-colorful mug into his hands. “One mocha latte for _His Majesty,_ and you’re welcome.”

He bit back a sharp retort. “Thank you, _Darcy.”_

She watched him with twinkling eyes as he took a sip - it was _scalding,_ and he probably should have waited - and Loki frowned at her, trying to hide his delight over whatever taste it was that he was currently experiencing.

“That’s _chocolate_ you’re tasting, Mischief. Apparently you guys don’t have it up in Asgard, according to Thor. Pretty good, huh?”

“It is pleasant enough.” He couldn’t allow her to become _too_ smug, but he _did_ enjoy being spoiled with treats; it made him feel a bit more like his former self, for Prince Loki Odinson had possessed a notorious sweet tooth.

“Yeah, you love it. I can tell. Can’t _wait_ to see what you do to a box of donuts. Anyway, c’mon, science beckons.”

Loki trailed after her as she led him from the kitchen, cradling the mug in his hands, feeling suddenly apprehensive. What was he _doing?_

 _Fitting in,_ he reassured himself, _as per the plan._

Oh, yes. The _plan._ He really needed to give more thought to the plan, _especially_ what he was going to do once he’d managed to slip free from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s grasp. Where would he go?

“Hey, guys. Special delivery.”

Darcy stood in the open doorway to the laboratory, enthusiastically waving him forward. He brushed past her, a thin smile on his face; it wouldn’t do to let the mortals know he was feeling a bit unsettled.

“Dr. Foster,” he acknowledged, eyes sweeping across the room. “Bruce.”

Banner stared at him. “I…” He glanced over at Jane Foster for a moment, as if seeking assistance. “Did I _do_ something to make you think we’re on a first-name basis?”

“Not feeling _tense,_ are we?”

“Okay, Loki, you can just knock it off.” Darcy put a guiding hand on his back, steering him further into the room.

 _Bold,_ he thought, but he allowed it. Perhaps all this physicality was a good thing, if it was going to help his target lower her guard. He would just have to get used to being touched again. And if it was Darcy Lewis doing the touching… _well,_ he was certain he could manage it.

Jane Foster was sending meaningful looks his way, alternating with pointed glances at the security cameras strategically placed all over the ceiling. Brow furrowed, he regarded her with confusion, but then he suddenly made out the silently-mouthed words _‘kill the audio’_ on her lips.

Terribly intrigued, he did it; whatever agent was on the other side of those cameras would now be treated to a high-pitched static. “I’d estimate you only have a moment before this becomes suspicious, Dr. Foster.”

“You did it already?” She seemed surprised that it had taken so little effort; maybe she suspected that he was trying to catch her breaking the rules on camera.

“Yes, so I suggest that you speak quickly.”

Foster heaved a sigh. “Look, Loki, I’m not exactly a huge fan of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s method of operations, so I want to give it to you straight - _you’re_ supposed to be the project.”

“What?” The clipped query hung in the air, tense and foreboding. Loki felt Darcy’s hand still on his back, presumably trying to be soothing. He didn’t feel very soothed.

The scientists shared a look, and Banner shifted forward slightly. _Defensive._ “We’re supposed to study you,” she continued. “How your magic works, your physical makeup… that’s one of the main reasons they agreed to let you stay here, in the Tower.”

“And it was believed that I would somehow _not notice this?”_ Loki snapped, his grip on his mug tightening. _Don’t break it._

“Jane and I have both been screwed over by S.H.I.E.L.D. before,” Banner said. “They do what they want, and they demand your soul. What _we_ want, and what Tony wants, is for you to work here helping us with _actual_ projects.”

“Basically, we don’t want to be spies,” Dr. Foster added. “I never signed up to be a spy. That’s not part of my job description.”

Loki was slightly perplexed. Why were they being so… upfront? Was it an attempt to trick him into lowering his guard? He took a sip of his coffee. “I see.”

“So just… know that S.H.I.E.L.D. is keeping a close eye on you, I guess. And that we don’t want to have any part in the shady stuff.”

“You should probably fix the cameras now, Mischief,” Darcy mumbled. She was right; he _really_ didn’t feel like dealing with any agents right now.

“Very well,” he said. “I look forward to working with you, Dr. Foster. Banner.”

They both nodded - a tacit accord, it seemed. It was incredibly suspicious, in his opinion, that they would be so openly subversive - particularly with _him._

“So,” Darcy said brightly, dropping her hand from his back, “show us all the fun _science_ stuff.”

He tuned out the following lab tour for the most part, nursing his mocha and brooding as the mortals chattered around him.

Were the mortals studying Thor, as well? Did he know? Naive fool that he was, he would probably be happy to allow such a thing; Loki considered it an affront. They were gods, _higher powers…_ they were not to be questioned, and certainly not to be poked and prodded by lesser beings.

Approaching footsteps pricked at his ears, and he assumed at first that someone was coming to check on the mysterious alteration of the video feed. But _no,_ he had no such luck. Instead, it was Darcy Lewis’s lackey who appeared in the doorway, and Loki’s eyes narrowed.

_Ian._

This _Ian_ boy was going to be an issue; he couldn’t afford to allow Miss Lewis’s attentions to be divided. Loki needed her focused on _him,_ he needed her to become fully devoted. How else could he possibly expect to successfully utilize her in his plans to escape?

There was also the small fact that the thought of her going on more of these ‘dates’ made him want to break something.

“Oh, hey,” Darcy said, smiling brightly. Loki was halfway-convinced that her enthusiasm was simply an effort to vex him - surely she could not truly be so excited to see such a pathetic, _scrawny_ creature… could she?

“Hey.” Ian looked baffled to see him there; Loki couldn’t imagine _why_ \- Darcy Lewis was supposed to be _his_ handler, after all.  “I just thought I’d see what you all are up to… if you wanted to get dinner or something?”

 _Did Ian live in the Tower?_ He’d have to find out.

“No, thanks,” Banner replied, barely looking up from his workstation. “I think I’m just gonna order in.”

Dr. Foster’s smile was apologetic. “Me, too. Sorry.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright. I understand. What about you, Darcy?”

She bit her lip. “Uh, I’ve actually got plans. Tomorrow, maybe?”

“Oh.” He looked disappointed. _Good,_ Loki thought. “Yeah, tomorrow sounds good. I would say we could go to the park, but this storm system is supposed to get worse.”

“Is it? I never remember to check the forecast.”

She was oblivious to the mortal man’s distress, it seemed; it was _fantastic._ Loki sidled closer to her. Had things been a bit different - if she’d been some goddess he’d taken an interest in on Asgard, perhaps - he simply would’ve put an arm around her waist, staking his claim. No one would dare challenge a prince, _particularly_ one so adept at curses.

He had a feeling that she would take issue with that.

And so, instead, he simply placed a hand on her shoulder, the other still clutching his mug. _Hmm,_ he thought absently, _I’ll really have to see if I can get some more of that._ Miss Lewis’s spine stiffened, but she did not protest, likely because she wanted to prove that he could not unsettle her. What could he do? What did mortals these days consider _gallant?_

Because Loki certainly did not want to drive her into the arms of this _Ian…_ no, even if he _did_ wish to torment Darcy Lewis, he would have to be charming and friendly often enough that she still stayed close.

She’d said that she planned to win him over with food and drink; Loki decided that he would do the same. “This _mocha_ of yours, Miss Lewis,” he said. “I would like another before we retire to my room. Would you care for one, as well?”

 _There._ Perfectly polite - she couldn’t possibly complain about his manners, now - but it still showed the mortal man where she planned to spend her evening. He tried (and likely failed) to suppress a smug smile.

“Uh… sure, I guess?”

She was confused. _Perfect._ Removing his hand from her shoulder, Loki delicately plucked her mug from her fingers. “I will return shortly, then.”

“Wait!” she called after him as he strode towards the door, “I never showed you how to work it.”

“I think I can manage,” Loki said, pausing in the doorway. “I have been watching you _very_ closely, after all.”

Then he winked and headed down the hallway, snickering to himself at the faint, pretty blush on Miss Lewis’s face.

 

* * *

 

He found himself back in his rooms not long after, Darcy Lewis curled up not two feet from him on the couch. Her intern had already been gone by the time he returned to the laboratory with their beverages, and Drs. Banner and Foster had been busy at work. Loki had been more than happy to leave them to it.

It was _nice,_ he mused, that at least he seemed to have the freedom of that particular hallway to move about in without an escort; it wasn’t much, but if he had to have Miss Lewis escort him back and forth every single time he wanted something from the kitchen, he’d probably lose his mind.

What was left of it, of course.

“You did good, Mischief. Man, Asgard must suck if there’s really no chocolate.”

“There are many other delicacies on Asgard, Miss Lewis. I am sure that you would enjoy it, if you were ever allowed to visit.”

“Yeah, I hear your dad’s really strict on the ‘no bringing home stray mortals’ thing, right? Like, he called Jane a goat. A _goat!”_

He found that he rather enjoyed the way she looked when she laughed. “And why is this so amusing?”

“Well, Jane is a genius _and_ a babe. She’s the total package, minus maybe some people skills. And Odin just straight-up compared her to a goat.”

“He did not mean just her - _all_ mortals. It is a common view, on other realms, that mortals are weak and ridiculous little creatures.”

“Hey! Don’t call me a weak and ridiculous little creature!”

“I could call you _much_ worse, Darcy Lewis.” He grinned. “But I will admit that you are a very _entertaining_ ridiculous little creature.”

“I think that’s supposed to be a compliment, so I’m gonna allow it.”

“It is.” And oddly enough, Loki genuinely meant it. She was entertaining, and there was something about her ridiculousness that was almost… endearing?

“I wish I’d gotten to go.”

He’d been distracted, wondering why he suddenly found irritating human traits _endearing_ , of all things. It must simply be because she was somewhat pretty, he decided. “Hmm?”

Lightning crashed outside, and she jumped. “To Asgard. I mean, I’m glad that I didn’t get infected with some crazy powerful mist that wanted to end the universe, obviously. But I’m still kind of jealous that I didn’t get to see Asgard. Jane can’t remember everything, but she says it was beyond anything she could ever describe.”

“You aren’t afraid of the storm, are you, Miss Lewis?”

“No. Well, I shouldn’t be, I guess. I guess the whole ‘world-almost-ending’ thing still has me a little jumpy.”

 _Hmm._ He’d been surprised by how lighthearted she’d seemed, especially considering the fact that she was one of the only humans on Earth who knew what had _really_ been about to happen during the Convergence. “You are safe here.”

“I know. And the annoying thing is, I always liked thunderstorms before. I’d just curl up with a book or something under a fuzzy blanket. But those elf guys had to go ruin it.” She frowned. “And honestly, that big fiery Tin Man you sent down to Puente Antiguo didn’t exactly help my nerves, either.”

Loki studied her out of the corner of his eye; she wasn’t trying to make him feel _guilty,_ was she?

Because it wouldn’t work.

“I _am_ sorry,” he said anyway, thinking that it would likely endear him to her, “I thought only of dealing with my wayward subjects. I gave no thought to Midgard.”

“Sure, sure. I imagine you’re really broken up about the whole thing, right?” She sighed, but Loki noticed that she was now just the _slightest_ bit closer to him.

_Interesting._

“Things did not go as I’d hoped.”

“No, I guess not, huh?” The lightning crashed again, and the wind wailed outside; according to the news programs he’d turned on earlier, this was supposedly predicted to be one of the worst storms to hit the city in a century. He suspected the Convergence was to blame. Darcy wrapped her arms around her knees. “Hey, do you have like a throw or something?”

“Throw?”

“A blanket.”

“No. Perhaps I should purchase one.” But then he realized how foolish he sounded, because _he_ did not need a blanket, and Darcy Lewis knew it. Now he risked seeming _far_ too considerate, and he grimaced.

“That would be nice. It’ll feel a lot more comfortable once your stuff gets here, you’ll see. More homey.”

There was something wistful in the way she said it. “Do you miss home, Miss Lewis?”

“Well, yeah, of course. But after all that’s happened, all the crazy stuff I’ve seen… it’s hard to go back, you know?” Loki watched silently as she plucked at the hem of her dress. “I mean, I’m not even a full-fledged _Avenger_ or anything, and I haven’t been off the planet, but I’ve seen some bizarre, life-altering crap, Mischief.”

“Your unease is understandable. Mortals were not meant to intervene in otherworldly affairs.” She looked as if she was about to protest, so he raised his hands placatingly. “I do not mean this as an insult. You are simply… young.”

“And you aren’t? Relatively, I mean.”

“Relative to many _immortals,_ perhaps. Relative to _you,_ little girl, I am _ancient.”_

“What was it like, back in the day?”

“Midgard?”

“Yeah.”

“More primitive, I suppose. We were free to be what we are - to be _gods._ It was entertaining. I enjoyed it far more then, before mortals became so _pretentious.”_

Darcy snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” Then he noticed the goosebumps on her skin.

She was cold, it seemed, and extremely ill-at-ease over the storm raging outside. “Hold on a moment,” Loki said, rising and padding gracefully to his bedroom. He yanked the cover from the bed - it wasn’t as if _he_ needed it, anyway - and returned to the couch, dumping it on her head.

“There. Let it never be said that I have not contributed to your wellbeing.”

When she pulled the blanket from her head, there was an odd look on her face _._ It made him uncomfortable. “Thanks, Magic Man.”

“Why do you use so many bynames?”

“Huh?”

“Nicknames,” he amended.

“Oh. They’re fun. Plus, Tony has nicknames for _everybody,_ so I fit right in. I’m still trying to settle on a favorite for you.”

“He called you Austen. Why is that?”

_“'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'”_

Loki stared at her in confusion.

 _“Pride and Prejudice?_ No?” She shook her head in mock disappointment. “I figured you were better read than that, Mischief.”

“I rarely read literature from Midgard.”

“Well, that’s your loss,” Darcy replied brightly, “but don’t worry, we’re gonna fix that. Anyway, _Pride and Prejudice_ is a classic book about a snooty dude and a stubborn-but-totally-awesome girl. The snooty dude’s name is Darcy, and the author who wrote it is Jane Austen. So that’s where the nickname comes from.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, I like it. He stared out with ‘Daria,’ but ‘Austen’ seems more _right._ You know?”

“No.”

She laughed. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. Wanna watch more _Food Network?”_

“If you insist _.”_

 

* * *

 

By the time midnight rolled around, Loki had somehow ended up under the blanket, as well.

Even though he didn’t need it.

By two o’clock in the morning, Darcy Lewis was out cold, her head resting precariously on his shoulder. He didn’t know what to _do_ \- should he wake her?

Should he be angry? A _mortal_ had the _nerve_ to use him as a pillow… he should be offended.

_Shouldn’t he?_

He carefully eased his arm around her; it was much more comfortable that way.

For _him,_ of course - what did he care if _she_ was comfortable?

By three o’clock in the morning, Loki was sound asleep, Darcy’s head cradled in the crook of his neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guyyyysss <3 Y'all are amazing (and I really wish I could spend all my time just working on my fanfics, because the comments I get make my day 1000x better)!
> 
> alternative chapter titles:
> 
> "The One Where Loki Discovers Chocolate"  
> "THERE WAS ONLY ONE COUCH"
> 
> ... but really, I feel like food and accidentally falling asleep/snuggling are major themes in basically everything I write. I guess that shows what I'm into, doesn't it? ;)
> 
> <3 MoA


	6. Waffles & Warnings

Something was tickling his nose, and Loki was beginning to feel slightly vexed, because he  _ did not _ want to move; he was  _ far _ too relaxed in his bed, a pleasant fruity scent wafting in on the morning breeze. Perhaps it was his breakfast being laid out by one of the servants?

But then he became conscious of warmth pressed against his side - perhaps, instead, he had overindulged at one of his brother’s ridiculous parties last night and brought some winsome goddess back to his chambers. It wasn’t something he did  _ often, _ but  _ Norns, _ it must’ve been the right choice, because he had not felt so at-ease in as long as he could remember.

The tickling continued.

Loki halfway-opened one bleary eye, slowly peeking down to find the source of his irritation, only to be met with the sight of slightly-mussed, wavy brown hair.

_ No.  _

It  _ wasn’t _ some winsome goddess, at all. It was  _ Darcy Lewis.  _

How  _ appalling. _

And at some point in the night, his arm must’ve slipped further around her shoulders, for now he held her pinned firmly at his side, her face buried against his throat. In fact, now that he was awake, he could feel her soft, slow breaths against his skin, and Loki enthusiastically cursed himself for falling into such a dreadful predicament.

For what could he do now? She had wreaked complete havoc on his instincts - part of him wanted to shove her away in disgust at such a pathetic display of vulnerability in the arms of a  _ mortal, _ while another part of him was thrilled by the physical contact,  _ particularly _ by how close her lips were to his neck.

Then, another worry appeared: what if  _ she _ was the one who became upset? What if little Miss Lewis was so horrified by falling asleep at his side that she ran away again? What if she put her guard back up, ruining any chances he might have of using her to eventually flee the Tower?

His arm was draped over her shoulder; he  _ could _ simply end this now, he supposed. Raise his arm, tighten his grip… take her identification, and run. She wouldn’t even wake up, and it wasn’t like he  _ had _ to kill her. If he wanted to leave her alive, he could put her under fairly painlessly.

He imagined her regaining consciousness on this very couch, betrayed and alone, only to be picked over by furious S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and frantic Avengers. It seemed particularly cruel, considering how peacefully she was sleeping.

And how peacefully  _ he _ had slept, with her tucked against his side. 

The rain was still beating down outside, and it seemed to be fairly early; it wasn’t as if  _ he _ had anywhere to be, after all, and so he decided that the best thing to do was simply wait and see what Darcy Lewis made of the situation when she woke up. It was certain to be amusing.

Loki was teetering precariously on the verge of slumber once again when Darcy finally began to stir, roused by a particularly loud crack of lightning. She seemed every bit as confused as he had been, first nuzzling into his neck with a light hum - Loki had to hold himself back, at that - and then stiffening as she realized that she wasn’t simply dreaming.

Although, the fact that she’d been contentedly nuzzling him in what she  _ thought _ was a dream was… unexpectedly pleasing. 

_ If she was dreaming of you, _ he reminded himself, a familiar bitterness poking and prodding at any contentment he might’ve found in the moment. 

He pretended to be asleep, keeping his limbs loose and heavy. Darcy wiggled ineffectively, trying to dislodge the leaden weight of the arm that kept her locked at his side. 

“Loki?” she whispered, mortification clear in her tone.  _ “Aw, crap.” _

Not laughing was difficult, given her complete and utter failure to move his arm even in the slightest.  _ Poor Miss Lewis _ \- he supposed he  _ was _ rather heavy, when he wanted to be. 

“C’mon, Mischief, wake  _ up.” _ Her hand moved to his chest, then, and Loki was extremely taken aback by the images that the feel of her fingers pressed against him conjured in his mind. 

_ It is only because I had dreamed of having a woman in my bed, _ he reassured himself. But all the same, it was  _ not _ some unnamed goddess that he now pictured straddling his lap, bracing herself against him - it was Darcy Lewis.

He decided that it might be best if he released her, after all.

“Oh, thank God,” she muttered as he opened his eyes slowly and allowed her to finally push his arm away. “I have to pee  _ so bad.” _

Darcy ungracefully untangled herself from the bedspread, and Loki stared after her in surprise as she quickly staggered off towards his bedroom, seemingly completely at-home in his new chambers. 

How  _ vulgar _ mortals were nowadays. 

He was suddenly overcome with the urge to see her at one of Odin’s tedious banquets, throwing back her chair and excusing herself without even the slightest hint of propriety.  _ Yes, _ Darcy Lewis on Asgard would be a sight to behold.

It was almost a pity that such a thing could never happen; even if Thor took her to Asgard one day, it was hardly as if Loki would be there, seated at the high table like the prince that he’d once been. No, if Loki went back to Asgard, it would be in chains.

_ Unless… _

The wheels in his mind began to spin. Odin Allfather had been so furious with his  _ precious _ Thor that he’d banished him to Midgard, stripped of his powers and his immortality, even though he’d been on the brink of handing him control of the Nine Realms. And what had convinced Odin to grant Thor a reprieve?

_ Worthiness. _

Or, to be more specific, his sudden  _ caring _ and  _ protectiveness _ towards mortals. He’d become smitten with Jane Foster, and that overt display of weakness had somehow convinced Odin that he’d  _ grown, _ that he’d learned some sort of  _ valuable lesson. _

Might Miss Lewis hold the key to his freedom in a different manner than he’d originally intended? It was something to consider, at the very least. 

He stayed in his place under the blanket, curious to see what she’d do when she returned. She did not have anything else to do today, did she? And she’d essentially brushed off her lackey’s attempts at a second date today…  _ surely _ that meant that she’d prefer to spend her day with him, did it not?

When Darcy shambled back into the living room, she was stifling a yawn. “Hey,” she said, “did you know it’s only, like, seven in the morning? Barely slept  _ at all.” _

_ So,  _ she was going to pretend that everything was normal, was she? That she could hide that embarrassed blush on her cheeks behind false bravado?

Loki could play that game. 

“If you’d like, we could retire to my bed for a few more hours’ respite. It would be  _ much _ more comfortable.”

Her composure shattered, her eyes widening.  _ “Seriously?” _

“As serious as Ragnarok. No need to look so  _ fretful, _ Miss Lewis - I offer my bed, not my body.” He winked. “You’ve yet to earn  _ that,  _ I’m afraid.”

“You are  _ unbelievable,  _ Mischief.” Retrieving her coat from the couch, she glared down at him with impressive haughtiness. “Now if you’ll  _ excuse _ me, I’m going to go put on pajamas and make waffles, because this is a total pajama-and-waffles day.”

_ Pajama-and-waffles day.  _ Was that an expression on Midgard? Loki had certainly never encountered it before. “Wait.  I’ll accompany you.”

“Did I miss the part where I  _ invited _ you to ‘accompany’ me?”

“Come now, Darcy; it will be  _ such  _ fun. I am dying to learn what these  _ waffles  _ of yours are.”

_ “What?”  _ she cried. “You don’t know what  _ waffles _ are? You’re kidding.”

“No,” Loki lied, looking as penitent as possible. She’d give in- he  _ knew  _ she would.  _ “Please,  _ Miss Lewis. For you see, I have  _ nothing _ to eat…” He trailed off, sending a forlorn look towards the door. “And I will otherwise be  _ imprisoned _ here all day.”

Darcy watched him through narrowed eyes, her coat clutched in her hand. She was beginning to waver, and Loki smelled victory. 

_ “Alone,”  _ he added, sighing dramatically. 

“Damn, you’re good,” she finally replied, rolling her eyes. “Come on. But if you want pajamas, bring your own; I don’t think we’re the same size.”

 

* * *

 

_ ‘Pajamas,’ _ in Loki’s case, turned out to be long, black  _ sweatpants,  _ which he found to be terribly  _ plain. _ They certainly weren’t intimidating in the slightest, though they were admittedly a bit more comfortable than his usual leather and metal. 

Still, Loki missed his leather and metal. 

The shirt Darcy had tossed at him from his dresser had large blue stripes of varying shades, which he did not find particularly appealing. It was also horrifically baggy - he hoped that Thor did not make a sudden appearance, because he knew he looked rather ridiculous. 

But then, if  _ anything  _ could convince Thor that Loki was playing nice with the mortals, then  _ surely _ this was it; how else could eating breakfast with Darcy Lewis in his bed-clothes be explained?

He was on his best behavior as they made their way to her room; if he was going to be troublesome, he thought it best to wait until most of the day was gone. Darcy might be able to run away and avoid him on the weekend, but she’d be forced to deal with him once Monday morning rolled around, unless she wanted to surrender her position as his liaison. 

Loki thought her far too stubborn for that. 

It was surprising to him that Miss Lewis only lived one floor below his, but apparently all of the apartments in the Tower were grouped within a few levels. She certainly hadn’t been lying when she’d said that his room was better than hers; the window was the biggest difference, and without it, her rooms looked slightly cave-like.

A nicely-furnished,  _ cozy _ cave, to be sure, but a cave nonetheless. Loki was quickly discovering that he was not overly fond of places without windows. He liked to think of them as emergency escape routes (even if they were reinforced, like the ones in his own suite of rooms). It bothered him to realized that he’d become so  _ fidgety.  _

“Look,” she said as they stood just inside her door, and now Darcy Lewis appeared to be rather  _ fidgety, _ herself. “I want to shower, because I was in the same clothes all night and I feel kind of gross. Is it cool if you just… I dunno, sit here for a minute?”

He regarded her with a skeptical expression, still a bit puzzled as to why she’d allowed him into her chambers so easily in the first place.  _ Poor, foolish little mortal. _ “Surely this isn’t permitted?”

“I mean… probably not. But you’re already here now, so whatever.” Shrugging, she pointed to the couch. “Welcome to my lair, Mischief. Please don’t break anything.”

Loki perched delicately on the edge of her couch as she wandered off into the next room - her bedchamber, surely. Suddenly, he realized that his heart was beating a bit quickly; he decided that it must be because he was so uncomfortable with acting so frighteningly  _ casual _ with a mortal, while in enemy custody. Or perhaps it was leftover adrenaline from his hurried considerations of how to best incapacitate her and escape. 

Surely, it was one of those.

Because it  _ certainly _ wasn’t due to the fact that, as the sound of spraying water filtered through her door and into his sensitive ears, his thoughts were suddenly consumed with the thought of pretty little Miss Lewis, naked and vulnerable and  _ well _ within his reach. 

No, it  _ certainly _ wasn’t that. 

_ Another test, _ Loki told himself. Whether Darcy knew it or not, she was most certainly being used as bait to tempt him. The troubling thing was just how easily she’d seemed to take to  _ being _ bait; could it be that she did know? That it was all carefully calculated?

He needed to be more careful. 

When she finally emerged, her hair damp and slightly unkempt, she was wearing pants not dissimilar from his own, though her shirt was far more garish - there was a giant drawing of a bird on the front of it - a penguin, if memory served. 

Loki did not understand.  _ Mortals. _

“Let’s go,” she said. “The kitchen is calling.”

“You do not wish to use your own?”

She gave an unenthusiastic shrug. “It’s tiny, and I don’t really keep much here. And I  _ definitely _ don’t have a waffle iron. And you’re right, I’m probably breaking a million rules just by having you here.”

“I see.”

They returned to the increasingly-familiar kitchen near the laboratory, and Loki hovered over Darcy’s shoulder as she began pulling things out of the cabinets. “You wanna help, or just stand there?”

“I bow to your expertise, Miss Lewis.”

“That’s not gonna get you out of helping, buddy. Get the milk and eggs from the fridge. I’m pretty sure you can manage that.”

Loki sighed, but did as she said. He was  _ ravenous. _ And since he’d actually slept peacefully, even for such a short time, he felt… more  _ alert, _ almost. Eager to  _ do _ something. Perhaps after they ate their breakfast, they could return to the training room? Or… or  _ something _ physical. 

He needed to  _ move. _

“I’m just gonna go ahead and make, like, a couple dozen, considering how you eat. It might take a while.” Her face lit up. “Actually, I’ll go steal another waffle iron from the kitchen downstairs. I’m  _ pretty _ sure they have one, too. That’ll speed things up.”

He froze, two halves of a cracked eggshell delicately held in his fingertips. “You are going to leave me here, Miss Lewis?  _ Unsupervised?” _

“Yeah,” she replied blithely. “I mean, you might as well keep cracking eggs. What’s the worst that could happen?”

_ The worst that could happen… _ Loki was relatively unbound, as far as his powers went. There was  _ quite a bit _ he could do, and all of it was very, very bad. 

“So,” Darcy continued. “Stay here, okay? Don’t do anything…  _ God-of-Mischief-y. _ I’ll be back in ten.”

Then she scampered away.

Tossing the eggshells into the bin, he glared down at the bowl on the counter in front of him, feeling suddenly… irate. Was he  _ so _ harmless, then, that she felt safe just leaving him to his own devices, unguarded save for the cameras on the ceiling? But hadn’t that been what he’d wanted, for her to completely lower her defences?

_ But, for it to happen so quickly... _ Loki did not understand it. It had to be  _ her _ \- Darcy Lewis must have some flaw, some weakness of her own that made her so  _ eager _ to trust him. Or maybe it  _ was _ all just some tremendous S.H.I.E.L.D. scheme, and agents would be ready to swoop in and attempt to contain him the moment he set foot outside of the kitchen door.

He continued cracking eggs.

And Darcy was true to her word, appearing not ten minutes later with her cooking contraption in her arms. “Success!” she declared, settling it down carefully onto the countertop. “No one will notice it’s even gone; a lot of the people in the Tower don’t ever bother cooking, since there are like a million places to eat nearby.”

“Places that I shall never see, I suppose.”

“Hey, don’t try to make  _ me _ feel bad about that, Mischief. I don’t make the rules.”

“I know, Miss Lewis. Here.”

She gave him an odd look as he passed his bowl of freshly-cracked eggs over to her, but it flickered away just as quickly. “I’ll mix up the batter and get these bad boys cooking,” she said, and Loki was  _ almost _ certain that he could see a faint blush on her cheeks.

_ Why? _

“I like your... pajamas,” he said as he watched her work. It was a lie - he thought them terribly tacky and shapeless - but he wanted to see if she’d blush again. 

She did. “Thanks, Mischief. You pull off the sweatpants look pretty well, yourself.”

Loki decided he’d like very much to see her in a gown, one of the diaphanous, summer gowns that the court women wore in Asgard. It would certainly be far more flattering, and…

_ And  _ he shouldn’t care. He banished the thought from his mind. 

The waffle contraptions were odd-looking, and Loki was oddly fascinated at the way the batter slowly spread to fill and cover the tiny channels in the metal. Was this what he was to be reduced to - marveling over mortal cooking innovations and daydreaming about Darcy Lewis? 

Even worse, it had only been a few days. 

_ Norns help me.  _

“I’m going traditional with these, but man, you should try chocolate chip some time. You’d be all over that.”

“Hmm.”

“Something bothering you?”

“No, Miss Lewis. Nothing at all.”

 

* * *

 

He  _ liked _ waffles, he decided, particularly once Miss Lewis took it upon herself to douse his with butter and syrup. The taste reminded him somewhat of breakfast cakes he’d eaten in the palace, though he shoved that bit of unwanted nostalgia aside without too much effort. 

_ Live in the present.  _

He ate three stacks, and Darcy put what was left into a plastic container to take back to his room. 

“You might as well hang on to leftovers,” she’d said, “until all your stuff gets here.”

“Why isn’t my ‘stuff’ here  _ already?” _

“Apparently anything you get has to be checked over by S.H.I.E.L.D. security, and they aren’t willing to work on the weekend. Which is  _ total _ BS, by the way - those guys never stop working. I think they’re just pissy about the whole setup.”

“Setup?”

“Yeah. I mean, dude, I know you  _ hate  _ being forced to spend time with us  _ mere mortals  _ and all, but you’ve got it pretty nice here. You’re even getting paid more than  _ me. _ A lot of people aren’t cool with that.”

“Ah.”

The trip back to her floor was uneventful, but as they rounded the corner Loki came face-to-face with someone he  _ really _ was not in the mood to deal with at the moment. 

“Hey, Steve!” 

Captain Rogers came to an immediate halt. “Darcy? And…” His gaze hardened. “Loki.”

“Yeah, we’re just heading to drop some leftovers off in my fridge.” She held up the plastic container, smiling blithely. 

_ She’s lying. _ It was unexpected, to hear Miss Lewis slip into half-truths so easily; while they  _ had _ been en-route to her chambers, it was not to drop off any  _ waffles. _

_ No,  _ it was to settle in on her couch and watch more television, because according to Darcy Lewis, that was what a proper rainy Sunday entailed. And here she was, blatantly lying to  _ Captain America himself.  _

He was almost impressed. Perhaps she had more common sense than he’d thought. 

“Why is he wandering around the Tower on the weekend, Darcy? That wasn’t part of-“

“No groceries,” she hurriedly replied, brandishing the container again. “I’d be a pretty crappy liaison if I let Magic Man starve.” Her smile was bright, innocent.  _ Convincing.  _ “Where are you off to, Steve? The gym?”

“Yes, I can’t go outside to run today.” 

Loki was fascinated, because the internal battle between being polite to Miss Lewis and shoving Loki through a wall was clear on Rogers’ face. Should he provoke the good Captain?  _ No, likely not _ \- Darcy’s idea of a rainy Sunday morning sounded surprisingly appealing. He could wait until the workweek to pick fights with the Avengers. 

“Well, we’ll see you later, then.” Darcy started to walk onward, but Captain Rogers called after her, and Loki tensed in irritation.

“Wait, Darcy.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble. You have to keep him in the areas of the Tower that have been approved. Otherwise, they might pull you from the job.”

Loki couldn’t hold his tongue. “And are you going to run off telling tales to your masters, Captain?”

To his credit, the man remained very physically nonthreatening, likely for Miss Lewis’s benefit, although one of his fists clenched. “If I think you’re a threat, Loki, then  _ yes. _ If you aren’t following the rules of this deal you made with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Steve, c’mon, give me a  _ little _ credit,” Darcy interjected. “I’ve been wrangling crazy geniuses and Norse gods for like, two years now. Loki’s basically just a combo of the two. We’re being good kids. Right?”

She was fidgeting with the sleeves of her oversized pajama shirt, and Loki realized that she was trying to conceal the bruises on her wrist.

_ The bruises he’d put there. _

Guilt, unwanted and bothersome, twisted in his chest. “That is correct,” he said. “While I admire your ardor, Captain, I am currently rather content with my situation. I have no desire to find myself under Odin’s thumb once again.”

Rogers frowned, clearly torn. “Just be careful,” he finally told Miss Lewis, and then he continued on his way.

Once he was out of sight, Darcy heaved a sigh of relief. “That could’ve gone worse.”

“Indeed.”

“No casualties, though. See, I’m  _ good _ at this job.”

Loki snorted. “That you are, Miss Lewis. That you are.”

 

* * *

 

They’d ended up returning to his suite of rooms, since Darcy seemed concerned that someone would stop by to check up on her. “At least if I’m here,” she’d said, “I can pretend that we’re following the rules. Kind of.”

He hadn’t really minded. The lack of windows in her chambers bothered him, anyway. 

Now they sat on the couch again, both under his bedspread, though they kept a perfectly decent amount of space between them. Miss Lewis did not seem particularly eager to discuss the previous night, and Loki did not know what to say, which was disturbing in and of itself. 

If he teased her too badly, or chastened her, he risked the possibility that she might not allow it to happen again, and while he  _ shouldn’t _ care… he did. 

“I am becoming terribly sedentary,” he complained. The television program they were watching now involved repairing failing restaurants, and Loki did not understand the  _ point. _ There was a lot of yelling, and a lot of filth. The establishments reminded him of some of Asgard’s seedier taverns.

“Well, I’d take you outside if I could, Mischief, but you and I both know that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. Maybe they’ll let you go out with Thor, once he gets back. He should be back tomorrow, I think.”

He huffed in irritation. “Wonderful. That is  _ exactly _ what I wanted, to have  _ Thor _ take me out for a morning stroll.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, I could come, too. I don’t think we’ll have time tomorrow morning, though. Your schedule’s looking pretty full.”

“Is it?”

She pulled her phone out, frowning at it thoughtfully. “Yup. We’ve got a big, fancy  _ Avengers _ meeting in the morning, which I’m honestly pretty excited about. I usually don’t get to pop in for those. And then another meeting with the shrink.” Her nose crinkled in distaste. “Total waste of time.”

“Oh, I must disagree  _ most _ ardently.”

Her glare was scathing, and Loki grinned. “Keep it in your pants. Then we’ve got some time at lunch, and hopefully we can get your deliveries all put away before you’re supposed to go to the lab with Bruce and Jane. Got all that?”

“And what of exercise?”

“We can work in a gym visit in the evening.”

“Good. You need to practice your running.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Should I take that as a threat?”

His smile widened. “If you wish. What is planned for the evening?”

“Well, nothing, really. That’s your free time, I guess. You’ll have stuff here to keep you entertained by then, and food you can cook. I guess you’ll probably like having me out of your hair.”

“Yes,” Loki replied, lying through his teeth.  _ “Obviously.” _

But within ten minutes, he had his arm around the back of the couch, silently urging her to lean into his side once again, vehemently assuring himself that he was  _ not _ disappointed when she didn’t.

 

* * *

 

She left sometime in the mid-afternoon, and Loki took back to his pacing, bored out of his mind and wondering when he’d gone so  _ soft.  _ How could he be so dependent on the attentions of a woman - a  _ mortal _ woman, at that? 

A mortal woman who worked with his enemies.

Because, while they might  _ officially _ be on the same team now, Loki had no illusions about the true loyalties of the Avengers. Save for Thor, none of them really  _ wanted _ him there, and it was easy to see that Steve Rogers was simply waiting for the opportunity to break out his shield and armor and drag Loki to  _ justice. _

They hated him. He hated them.

_ So where does Miss Lewis fit into all this? _

That was the question he kept asking himself as he watched the sheets of rain beat down on the city outside his window, imagining how she must be curled up in her own small apartment, wearing her ridiculous sleeping-clothes and likely nursing a mug of coffee. She wasn’t a threat; he could hardly consider her an  _ enemy, _ could he?

If anything, she was more a potential source of collateral damage, which was how he’d come to think of Jane Foster; he didn’t hate  _ her,  _ not really, because he’d come to realize that she posed no threat to him. In some ways, he even felt a sort of  _ connectedness _ with her, in that he understood her all-consuming drive for understanding, the alienation she felt from her peers. 

Yes, in another life, he might’ve even been  _ friendly _ with Jane Foster, just as he might’ve freely pursued ridiculous, bold little Darcy Lewis. Loki did not particularly care to consider  _ might-have-beens. _ He’d already suffered enough disappointments; there was no need to torment himself further.

He took to watching documentaries on the television, deciding that he might as well study this dreadful planet as much as he could; it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. After what felt like a very,  _ very _ long time, he finally fell asleep, sprawled out on the couch that still retained the faintest whiff of the scent of Darcy Lewis’s freshly-washed hair.

His sleep was neither peaceful, nor dreamless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the next episode: The weekend's over, Big Brother Thor is back, and Captain Rogers is on high-alert. ;D
> 
> Thank you all for your sweet comments! <3 This one was almost-entirely fluff, and I hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Discord & Drama

Loki Laufeyson, God of Lies, one-time King of Asgard, opened his eyes on Monday morning to find the upside-down, bespectacled face of Darcy Lewis crowding across his field of vision. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

He blinked slowly, his eyes, tragically, zeroing in on her lips. They were slightly glossy today; she wasn’t dolling herself up for his sake, was she?

Loki licked his own lips, slightly worried by the effect that the possibility had on him. “Good morning, Miss Lewis.”

“Time to rise and shine. You look like you could use a shower, and that won’t leave us much time for breakfast before we’re supposed to be at the big fancy Avengers meeting at seven-thirty.”

Sleep still held him ensnared - at least, that was the excuse he gave himself as he reached up and brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Care to join me?”

Darcy snorted and smacked his hand away, righting herself, and Loki sat up and rolled his neck; he really should stop sleeping on the couch. It wasn’t big enough for him, and his body ached. 

“Go shower. I’ll wait for you.”

 

* * *

 

Fifteen brief, scalding minutes in the shower later, Loki found himself standing in front of his dresser, worrying over what clothes he should wear. It might seem like a silly, pointless thing,  _ true, _ but he knew how important appearances could be. 

_ Blend in, or be intimidating? _

_ Intimidating,  _ he decided, pulling on another pair of the mortal  _ jeans  _ and a button-down shirt. His magic took care of the rest, and when he stepped back out into the main room, he was gratified by Darcy’s wide-eyed appraisal. 

“Dude,” she said, approaching and poking one of his metal buckles. “Where’d this come from? And don’t you think it’s maybe a  _ little _ bit of overkill?”

“Magic,” Loki replied, rolling his eyes. “Obviously. And I think that today warrants  _ dressing to impress.” _

“Okay, okay. I’ll give you that. They all get to wear their crazy super-suits, I guess. Not that anyone will be wearing theirs to a Monday meeting.” She tugged on the leather of his vest, seemingly-fascinated by the fact that it was tangible. “You’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb.”

“I am used to attention.”

“Yeah, I guess you are.”

There was something slightly disconcerting about the sight of her slender fingers pulling at his clothing, and he stepped back, brushing her away. “Lead on, Miss Lewis.”

“To the kitchen!” she announced, and he sighed softly to himself as he followed her from his chambers. 

Today would be  _ interesting. _

He took in her form as they walked the halls together, enormously appreciative of the fact that she wore rather  _ tight  _ dark blue jeans of her own. 

Darcy, in turn, took to staring at him in their reflection on the elevator doors, her face scrunched up in thought. “Tilt your head back,” she said suddenly, pulling something off of her wrist. “I want to try something.”

Loki frowned. 

“Come  _ on,  _ Mischief. It’ll take like two seconds.”

It felt like a vulnerable thing, inclining his head back - the animal instinct in him, he supposed, did not like the feeling of exposing his throat. 

But he did it, anyway, and then he tried to hide his hum of surprise when her fingers suddenly raked through his hair, pulling it tight at the nape of his neck. 

“There,” Darcy said, stepping back with a satisfied look on her face. “Now you look like a pirate or a prince or something. A pirate-prince, maybe.”

Loki frowned at his reflection; with his hair tied back, he looked…  _ well,  _ more like his younger self. He wasn’t certain that he approved, but Darcy looked pleased with herself, so he decided to allow it. “I  _ am  _ a prince.”

“How could I forget? You’re so freakin’  _ bossy _ all the time.”

_ Bossy. _ As he watched her reflection in the mirror, Loki considered how lenient he’d been with her, how  _ gentle; _ would he have allowed some frail little Asgardian maid - for she was no more than a servant, really - to speak to him in such a bold, flippant manner? Unlikely. Yet here she stood, mere mortal that she was, acting as if she had no fear.

_ Despite the bruises on her wrist. _

How  _ easily _ she would break, he mused, if he suddenly changed his mind, suddenly decided that keeping little Darcy Lewis alive was no longer in his best interests. Would he?  _ Could _ he? He thought of her soft little breaths tickling his neck as she slept at his side, so vulnerable, so  _ trusting… _

But Loki considered once again the idea that this was part of their plotting - send in some sweet, naive little mortal to distract him and to lure him into comfortable passivity. Perhaps they even hoped that he would be  _ softened _ by his time with her, as Thor had been after his time with Jane Foster. Something of his temper sparked at the thought, something that whispered of his own foolishness, of the  _ weakness _ of letting his guard down so easily.

There was no peace for Loki Laufeyson -  _ especially _ not within his own mind.

“Why have the mortals come to this arrangement?” he asked suddenly. “Why are they so desperate for my help, knowing how easily I could turn on them and escape?”

The content expression on her face flickered slightly, likely at the reminder that he was a prisoner, and she was only a reluctant ally at best, and an enemy at worst.  _ Foolish mortal  _ \- did she truly believe that his tie to this place was more than superficial? 

“Things have kinda been crazy the last few years, Mischief. Alien armies, Viking gods falling from the sky, portals popping up in space-time... Haven’t you  _ noticed?” _

There was a slight hint of sarcasm in her tone, and Loki suddenly found it irritating,  _ grating. _ As if any of this was  _ his _ fault. He hadn’t  _ asked _ to be cast from the Bifrost, hadn’t  _ wished _ to be sent hurtling into Thanos’s path - had never  _ imagined,  _ as a matter of fact, that he would end up leading some  _ disgusting _ alien army from the other side of the universe into a battle over the mud-hole that was Midgard.

“They haven’t told you, have they?” He saw her frown in the reflection, though neither of them turned to look at the other. “You aren’t  _ important _ enough, are you, Darcy Lewis? All you know is that you’ve been tasked with keeping an eye on me, but you don’t really know  _ why. _ I’d venture to guess that even your little scientist friends don’t know what was important enough for S.H.I.E.L.D. to agree to leave me on Earth,  _ do _ they?”

“You’re a megalomaniacal wannabe-overlord with god-powers,” Darcy snapped. “Is it any  _ surprise _ that Nick Fury wouldn’t want to let you out of his sight? And as for  _ Tony, _ he’d rather you do something  _ good _ to make up for all the damage you’ve caused than to spend a few years under house-arrest in your  _ golden palace.” _

_ So she truly doesn’t know, _ he decided. And judging from her tone, she was suspicious of the arrangement, as well, or simply hurt by the fact that information had been withheld from her. It was cruel of them, considering she was the one most directly in harm’s way. 

Perhaps she was correct, and even Tony Stark himself had simply jumped at the chance to better understand the inner workings of the universe. That was believable enough.

But he did not believe for one second that this noble quest for knowledge was all that was at play; no, Nick Fury had said himself that he  _ needed _ something, and he needed it desperately enough to allow this farce of a partnership to begin.

The elevator ride had taken almost no time at all, but it seemed almost endless. When they finally stepped out into the familiar hallway of the laboratory floor, Darcy Lewis finally turned to him, and he could tell that she had also decided to shove aside whatever awkward softness had formed during their odd little pastimes over the previous days. 

“Don’t you  _ dare _ embarrass me in the meeting, by the way,” she said. “And Thor will probably be there, too, so don’t even  _ think _ about starting some stupid family soap opera in the middle of a meeting. Just eat your breakfast, then play nice with the Avengers, and then you can lie to that psychiatrist-lady to your heart’s content. I’m sure that’ll make you feel better.”

“It  _ will,  _ Miss Lewis. You know me  _ so _ well.”

Darcy huffed, but once they were in the kitchen, she  _ did _ make them both coffee and the bagel-things she had teased him about before - and all the while, Loki simply stood and watched her. “Here,” she said, shoving both a mug and a plate at him. “Hurry up, or we’ll be late.”

A quick, mostly-silent meal and another uncomfortable elevator ride later, and Loki found himself on yet another unfamiliar floor of Stark Tower, standing in the doorway of a brightly-lit meeting-room with massive, perfectly-polished windows. Even though the sky was still stormy and grey outside, the room was vividly white and shining and chrome.

He suddenly wondered if Tony Stark had a fear of the dark.

“Brother.” 

Loki could almost see it in the fool’s eyes, his desire to bound across the room and embrace him, but Thor restrained himself. Perhaps he was beginning to learn. 

All eyes were on him, and he sighed dramatically, crossing to the large table where most of the  _ Earth’s Mightiest _ sat and sinking lazily into a chair at the very foot of the table.

Or, as he preferred to think of it, the very  _ head _ of the table. It was all a matter of perspective. 

_ Thor, Stark, Rogers, Banner, Romanoff, Barton… _ all of his  _ favorite _ people, gathered handily together in one place. Now would be the perfect time to launch a tidy, targeted attack, if only he had something to attack  _ with.  _

“Well, here I am. Let’s get this delightful little council over with, shall we?”

Darcy Lewis selected a seat at his side, as an odd tension simmered and bubbled in the air - but of  _ course _ it would. He was an interloper, an enemy. They wanted him there no more than he wanted to be there. 

“Well, you  _ are _ the number one item on our agenda, Reindeer Games,” Stark said smoothly, taking his own seat at the opposite end of the table. But then, unexpectedly, his eyes fell on Miss Lewis. “How’s he been treating you, Austen?”

“We’re good.”

“Yeah? Maybe  _ too _ good; J.A.R.V.I.S. keeps me posted with all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s reports, and they seem to think the two of you are getting suspiciously cozy. That’s not the way they worded it, obviously. I think the report said something like ‘monitor subject for signs of compromise.’ Feeling  _ compromised, _ Lewis?”

She flushed for just a moment, and Loki sat back in silence, inexplicably curious to see how she would address such claims. “No more than usual,” she said, and he saw Stark crack a small smile. “Besides,” she said, and Loki’s nerves suddenly spiked as she pushed up her baggy shirtsleeve, “If everybody’s watching us  _ so _ carefully, waiting for me to go rogue, then why’d they let  _ this _ happen?”

Every eye in the room fixed on the distinctly hand-sized markings ringing her wrist, and he felt something burn through his chest, something that - in a past life - he might’ve identified as  _ shame. _

Many things were said at once, ranging from Thor’s horrified  _ “Loki,” _ to Barton’s hissed  _ “I told you this was a bad idea,” _ to Banner’s quiet, but clearly-audible  _ “what the hell.” _ Agent Romanoff was silent, but she looked coiled and tense, like a viper ready to strike.

“Oh, just  _ save _ it,” Darcy snapped. “All of you. If Loki was going to kill me, he could have done it about a thousand times already. He could do it right this second, and  _ sure, _ you guys would get him back for it and all that jazz, but I’d be just as dead. My point is, was  _ this _ -” she pointed at her wrist “- not in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s reports?”

“No.” Stark sounded unsettled, and Loki’s hackles rose. She’d told him to mind himself, and then she’d gone and done  _ this… _

_ Impetuous little wench. _

But she was  _ also _ clever, because now Stark was eying the two agents in the room with a hint of suspicion. Little Darcy Lewis was using one of  _ his _ tricks, he realized, sowing discord among them to distract the attention from herself. He wondered if she’d considered the similarity.

“If Loki is acting this way  _ already,” _ Rogers spoke up, “then there is  _ no _ reason that we should let him just wander around the Tower. Darcy, you  _ have _ to see that. You’re a civilian, and you were never trained to deal with this.”

“I’m not exactly  _ just _ a civilian any more, am I?” There was a bite to her tone, and Loki suspected that his words from the elevator were weighing heavily on her mind.  _ Good.  _ “And it’s  _ fine _ \- some of our superpowered friends just don’t realize how  _ strong _ they are.” 

_ Lies. _

“Do you feel unsafe, Darcy Lewis?” Thor asked, a troubled frown marring his usually-bright features. Loki was almost  _ impressed _ \- only a few years earlier, and such a revelation might’ve sent him flying across the table in a rage.

“No, I don’t. And you guys are totally ignoring my point!”

_ More lies. _

“She  _ does _ have a point,” Stark said. “Are our friendly local spies not making accurate reports to Fury?”

_ “If _ we can trust that Loki didn’t just block or erase the evidence in the first place.” Rogers looked around the table, aghast. “Am I the only one seeing this? Loki’s doing what he always does: causing chaos.”

And indeed, Loki  _ was _ slightly enjoying himself, sitting back and letting them bicker around him.  _ Mortals. So weak, so petty. _

“Austen, do  _ you _ want to turn him over to someone else? I say it’s your choice.”

She sighed. “No. Like I’ve already said, it’s not a big deal -”  _ more lies  _ “- but I just think you guys should realize that something else is up with S.H.I.E.L.D. And I don’t see the point of them  _ reporting _ on me in the first place if they’re just cherry-picking everything.”

“Know anything about that, Nat?”

“No,” she replied, though her gaze never flickered from Darcy Lewis. “But I’ll find out what I can.”

“Great,” Stark declared, leaning back in his chair. “So, for now, that’s settled. But, Loki, if I find out you’ve done  _ anything _ like that again, I’ll jettison you back to Asgard  _ myself.” _

Loki said nothing, and none of the others protested, though it was clear Rogers and Barton wanted nothing more than for the group to come to a consensus to rid themselves of him.

He was immensely glad that he’d worn his armor. 

 

* * *

 

The meeting was brief, and Loki ignored most of it, far more interested in watching them all, unsettling them. Being forced to listen to them squabble and revel in their own imagined superiority drove his kindling irritation to new heights, and his frame grew more and more tense the longer the meeting dragged on. Thor was watching him, as well, no doubt eager to confront him over his mishandling of one of his little mortal  _ friends. _

That was important to remember - Miss Lewis was  _ not _ on his side. She was on Thor’s.

Once Stark had finally declared their pointless meeting ended, Loki left the room quickly, eager to avoid conversation with his brother. Darcy Lewis rushed to keep up with him. 

“That was a disaster,” she said. 

“Of your own making, mortal. Next time, I shall have to be certain to damage you in a  _ less-visible  _ manner.”

She glared at him in silence until the elevator doors opened, but one they were inside, she poked him in the chest. “Don’t give me that, Magic Man,” she snapped. “We  _ both _ know you don’t want to hurt me. Not really.”

“Oh, is that so?” He leaned down to whisper into her ear, the predatory beast in him enjoying the way she tensed. “Right now, Darcy Lewis, you cannot  _ begin _ to imagine the things that I wish to do to you.”

Loki hadn’t meant for it to sound quite as  _ salacious _ as it did, but… well, perhaps  _ this _ was even better, for the mortal’s face flushed crimson, and he felt something deep inside of him stir in response. 

“You know what?” she said. “Screw you. I just  _ helped _ you in there, you  _ ass. _ And we spent all of yesterday in our  _ pajamas _ watching TV, so this creepy murder-prince thing isn’t going to  _ work _ on me.”

She was bluffing, he knew, trying to convince herself just as much as she was him. But strangely, with his face so near to hers, smelling the scent of her hair, thinking to her genuine smiles as she’d  _ voluntarily _ spent her time with him… some of Loki’s resolve cracked.

He stepped away. It wasn’t as if he wanted her terrified, anyway - that wasn’t part of the plan. Perhaps he’d have to find another outlet for his simmering frustration.

“And now I’ve gotta go sit and watch you lie to that doctor and her agent friend for  _ hours,”  _ she muttered, pressing the button to take them to the appropriate floor. “Mondays _ suck.” _

Loki frowned; he could certainly agree with that. And truly, though he hated to admit it, he preferred their teasing to all this  _ unpleasantness. _ “Will you allow me to heal you, now?”

“What?”

“Now that you’ve had your little show, will you let me take the bruising away?”

He held out a hand, and Darcy stared at him suspiciously. “Why?”

_ Be sincere with her, _ some voice in his head suggested,  _ if you can. _

“It… grieves me,” Loki said finally. “I regret it, and it is within my power to mend it.”

Darcy said nothing for a moment or two, and when the elevator doors slid open, she stepped out into the hallway, turning towards him expectantly. “Come on, Mischief,” she said impatiently.

Then she held out her hand.

Loki stepped from the elevator and took it, an odd feeling in his throat. “This will only last a moment,” he said, pushing up her sleeve. “You might notice a change in temperature, but it should not hurt.”

Fascination filled her eyes as her skin glowed golden under his fingers, and it led him to hold onto her wrist slightly longer than necessary. When he finally released her, she flexed her fingers, staring at her now-unblemished skin. “Thanks.” There was something odd in her voice. “I felt a… a spark, or something.”

Loki knew.

He’d felt it, too.

 

* * *

 

Agent Fredricks did not seem amused by Loki’s charm, though Dr. Penn seemed eager enough to play along and lend a sympathetic ear. Darcy seemed just as annoyed as the last time, if not more so, and he found it incredibly entertaining.

She also continued to rub at her wrist.

Now that his temper had settled somewhat, Loki was in a gaming mood, and these S.H.I.E.L.D. mortals were excellent fodder. “So you see, dear doctor,” he continued, spreading his hands wide on the highly-polished table, “in my youth, I desired recognition, fame… a spot in the sunlight, if you will. I used my hard-earned knowledge of magic to best one of my companions in a battle on the training field, certain that my father would be proud. Instead, I was scolded and barred from using my powers for a week.”

He could see it forming, the hint of sympathy in her eyes - and truly, the story was not  _ entirely _ false; he had only omitted the fact that the seiðr he’d used was to conjure a blade, which he’d used to slash his brother’s thigh. 

Thor had pouted over  _ that _ little stunt for a fortnight, at least. 

“It must have been so hard for you, Mr. Laufeyson,” she said. “May I call you Loki?” He nodded, expression genial, and the psychiatrist smiled at him. “Loki, then. These… powers of yours. You had them even as a child?”

Darcy kicked his foot under the table, but it was totally unnecessary; Loki found the question equally suspicious. “For thousands upon thousands of years.”

Dr. Penn tapped her pencil against her chin thoughtfully. “Would you say that your powers  _ created _ your feelings of isolation, or were they  _ channeled _ by it?”

_ Ah.  _ So the real question, then, was how greatly his emotions shaped his magic. He wondered why they might want to know  _ that. _

“I confess that I do not know, my dear.” Darcy kicked him again, and Loki tried to hide his smirk. “How do the Norns choose the pattern to weave the threads of Fate?”

It was a common rhetorical question on Asgard, one that Miss Lewis would likely translate to ‘ _ who the hell knows?’ _ The truth, however, was both; Loki and his powers were one and the same, and what he felt fueled his magic just as his magic fueled  _ him. _

“I see. I’d imagine that you have developed many feelings of resentment towards your parents, your brother… it’s entirely understandable. Now, we’ve spoken a little about your family already. What I’d like for you to tell me about now is your relationships with other people.”

She laid a delicate hand on his, only for a moment, as if to offer comfort, and Miss Lewis made an audible snort of irritation. It was hardly  _ professional  _ of the good doctor - but then, S.H.I.E.L.D. did like for their  _ professionals  _ to have a variety of talents. 

The golden, curly hair, the lithe body, friendly smile, unnecessary physical contact… oh,  _ yes, _ Dr. Penn certainly had a  _ job,  _ and it was to get what they wanted from him, one way or another. 

He wondered if she found Darcy Lewis’s presence more irritating than she let on, for she’d made no mention of it this time around. 

“I have lived many thousands of years. Which relationships, exactly, do you find particularly interesting?”

“Well, given your… complicated relationship with your mother, I’d like to know about your romantic relationships.” Darcy snorted again, and the doctor’s mask of friendliness slip slightly, a flash of irritation in her eyes. “I know that this can be difficult,” she continued smoothly, “but please, try to be open, for the sake of making some progress.”

“Go on.”

“Have you ever felt particularly attached to anyone, Loki? Have you ever considered yourself to be in love?”

_ What an irritating line of questioning. _

Loki feigned reluctance. “I hardly see how such sentimental nostalgia could  _ possibly _ be useful -” he began, but Dr. Penn placed her hand on his once again. 

“Just trust me, Loki. It’s time to begin facing your demons.”

He nearly burst into laughter at that.  _ Fool of a mortal, _ he thought.  _ You could not survive my demons. _

But he schooled his features, gazing across the room with a look of practiced wistfulness. “Very well. There was a girl, once. Many, many centuries ago. Beautiful, fair-haired.” Loki glanced at her; she seemed to be relatively taken in, and he wished that he could risk a look at Darcy Lewis. He had no doubt that she’d be rolling her eyes.

“She swore to always be true to me,” he continued. “And I loved her. I believed that she loved me. But, of course, she was false.” Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his arms across his chest, defensive. “As is  _ everyone _ I’ve ever known.”

“I see. Do you suppose that this betrayal has contributed to your difficulties with trusting others?”

His shoulders sagged. “I do not know.”

“Time’s up,” Darcy said suddenly. “We have a schedule to keep. Sorry, Dr. Penn.”

The doctor shot a look of pure irritation at Miss Lewis, but then seemed to rein herself in, turning her blinding smile on him. “Oh, I understand. We’ll pick up where we left off next time.”

As they headed back to his chambers, Loki regarded Darcy Lewis with a smirk - she was so easy to rankle. “You  _ lied, _ Miss Lewis,” he said. “We have nowhere else to be.”

“Yeah, well, anywhere is better than  _ there.” _

“How  _ cruel _ of you, to deprive me of my audience.”

Frowning, Darcy turned to him as they reached his door, her fingers fiddling anxiously with her lanyard. “Was that story true, Mischief? About the girl?”

“Of  _ course _ not, mortal,” he scoffed. “Do I seem like the type of man to fall in  _ love? _ No, the story was Thor’s, though I  _ did _ have women aplenty when I wanted them…” Loki trailed off, noticing an odd emotion in Darcy Lewis’s eyes. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, opening the door. “You’re just a good liar, that’s all.”

But because he was the  _ God _ of Lies, Loki knew with absolute certainty that  _ she _ was lying, as well. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is hectic, my lovely readers, and I wanted to get this up for you ASAP, so apologies if there are any mistakes!
> 
> I imagine Loki's mind to be a very chaotic, tumultuous place. Or, as Bruce Banner once put it:  
> 
> 
> Your comments fuel me, so thank you all very, very much!! <3


	8. Pineapples & Point Break

“Why do you lie to me, Darcy Lewis?”

“I’m _not_ lying! I’m telling you, pineapples are amazing. You’re gonna thank me in about five minutes.”

Loki frowned at the strange, prickly-looking fruit that Miss Lewis was currently dicing up on his kitchen counter. “How do I know that you are not attempting to poison me?”

“What, you _can_ be poisoned?” She paused, feigning contemplation as she held the knife poised in the air. “Don’t give me ideas, Mischief.”

Sighing, he peered into the pot of rice on the stove. “I believe this is beginning to burn.”

“Then take it off! God, I know you’re just pretending to be incompetent to get me to do all the work. _Lazy_ Lokester.”

_Well, that’s certainly a new one._

“Very well. Now what?”

“Now, we’re gonna put it in that ginormous sauté pan and make stir-fry. Glorious _pineapple_ stir-fry.”

His frown deepened - there was no way in Hel that _thing_ was meant to be consumed. In fact, it was _disturbingly_ reminiscent in form to a fruit that grew in the volcanic soil of Muspelheim, one that could burn even an Asgardian from the inside out.

But Darcy simply grinned at him, then popped one of the bright yellow cubes into her mouth. “Live on the _wild_ side.”

“Were you never taught that it is rude to speak while your mouth is full?”

“Whatever.” She shrugged, and Loki wasn’t entirely certain if the easy carelessness with which she handled the knife in her hand was more worrying, or _arousing._ “Try one.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Mischief. Just a bite. _Try_ it.”

And then she was in front of him, a juicy little cube of the suspicious fruit held in her fingers, waving it insistently in front of his face. She grabbed the lapel of his coat to prevent his retreat, and a single drop of juice ran down her hand.

Loki’s heart began to beat just a _bit_ too quickly.

Darcy licked her lips. It wasn’t an invitation, he knew - but in that moment, _oh,_ how he _wished_ that it was.

“As you wish,” he said, and then he caught her hand in his, trapping her just as surely as she’d trapped him as he took the pineapple from her fingers with his teeth.

He dearly _hoped_ that it wasn’t poisonous, for she’d been right; the thing _was_ delicious, as was the beautiful pink flush on little Darcy Lewis’s cheeks.

She hadn’t let go of his jacket. He didn’t let go of her hand. “Do you wish for me to try _more,_ Miss Lewis?”

“No.” Darcy blinked, clearly rattled, and pulled away from him. Loki let her go. “Gotta finish up lunch,” she said. “And you’ve only put up, like, half of your stuff.”

The moment was gone.

“It is not _my_ fault that you ordered so many things. I would’ve been perfectly content with nothing.”

“Liar. Besides, if you didn’t want _stuff,_ you wouldn’t‘ve demanded an allowance in the first place.”

“Perhaps that was simply intended as a means to infuriate Director Fury.”

“Maybe. Whatever. I’m sure _I_ can find ways to spend it if _you_ don’t want to.”

“You think yourself entitled to a share of my fortune?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously. My salary definitely doesn’t cover all _this.”_ She gestured widely, knife in one hand and the cutting board in the other, and Loki almost found himself smiling. _Ridiculous little creature._ Why she’d bothered purchasing a spotted apron, he’d never know - it wasn’t as if _he’d_ ever wear it. Though _she_ looked rather charming in it, so he supposed it must be worthwhile.

“All this?”

“Yeah, _all this._ The cooking, the weekend pajama parties, the battles in the hallway, all that jazz. Dealing with your ridiculous ego. How much do you think that’s worth?”

“Surely all of the gold in the _shining_ Realm Eternal, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy huffed, and he watched steam flare up from the stove as she dumped something into one of the pans. “I don’t think I appreciate your _tone,_ Loki.”

She was trying to sound like him, he realized. Trying, and actually doing a rather good job of it. “I do not jest, Darcy Lewis. If you served me, I could drown you in riches.”

“Probably literally,” she muttered. “That’s a thing, you know. Death by gold. Supposedly the Parthians did it to Crassus.” Her face scrunched up in thought as she absentmindedly poked her spoon in the pan. “I always liked history and mythology. Guess I should’ve paid more attention to the Vikings.”

It never failed to be a bit _surprising_ when she began to ramble on like that, Loki thought. He wondered how much she had stored away inside that head of hers, hidden behind her snark and her smiles. She was more clever than she acted.

Take, for example, that little stunt with the Avengers that _very_ morning; she had used the situation to her advantage rather well, though it pained him to admit it - her heroes were likely to keep an even greater watch on him, which would guarantee her physical safety, but it also put doubt into their minds about the arrangement with S.H.I.E.L.D., which was no doubt intended to increase her own autonomy….

Or _perhaps_ she was simply a foolish, _impulsive_ little girl, and it had all been by chance.

“I will deal with these things,” Loki said, stepping into the sitting room and picking up a handful of the books she’d _insisted_ on ordering. “You finish the meal.”

“Sounds fair enough.”

He started shelving the books above his desk, not paying any particular attention to their titles - he had no intention of reading them unless he became _truly_ desperate, after all.

“You know,” Darcy declared suddenly, “I was kinda imagining you tidying everything up with magic, like Merlin in _The Sword in the Stone._ ‘Higitus Figitus.’”

“What in the _Nine_ are you chattering away about now, Darcy Lewis?”

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the stove. “Nothing. Another reference to a movie you _clearly_ haven’t seen.”

“I do not need to use my magic for such simple things,” he said. “Why should I? I employ my powers for things that are actually better suited for it. Shelving books hardly requires finesse.”

“Well, you can _bet_ that if I somehow got crazy magical powers, I’d use them for _everything.”_

“And that, darling girl, just shows that you are entirely, mundanely _mortal.”_

Though there was a mocking curl to the words, Loki found that he somehow liked the sound of the endearment on his lips, likely because of the way it made her shoulders stiffen.

“Sounds like it would be totally justified, then, for me to revel in my escape from _mundaneness.”_

“Have I offended you?”

“Wasn’t that what you were going for?”

“More or less.”

Though she threw him a quick, narrow-eyed glare, Darcy chose not to comment on that, and Loki laughed as she pulled their meal from the stovetop. “Come and get it,” she said. “You should be able to handle _that_ on your own.”

But Loki’s inclination to tease at her had not yet faded, and so when she settled down at one end of his couch, her bowl in hand, he sat down next to her, watching her carefully. It was meant to be unsettling - Loki was excellent at being unsettling - and it seemed to work rather well.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pausing with her fork halfway-lifted to her mouth. “Go get your food. I’m not gonna do it for you.”

There was a time when Loki had enjoyed pointless theatrics with his spellwork, he could not deny, and he held out his hand with an unnecessary flourish, one of the white ceramic bowls from the countertop appearing in his palm.

“What -”

“Hush,” he said. “Watch.”

And then, grain by grain and morsel by morsel, the bowl filled to the brim with Darcy’s pineapple stir-fry concoction, all under her wide-eyed stare. She glanced towards the pan on the counter, then back to the bowl in his hand. “Is that real?” she said, and much to his amusement and horror, she looked prepared to poke her finger directly into the middle of his lunch.

“Yes,” Loki replied, quickly removing it from her reach and snatching a fork from thin air. _Truly,_ the look on her face was a thing to treasure. “Now let us see if it is also _edible.”_

“Okay, _rude._ First I make you food - which you _barely_ helped with, by the way - and then you question if it’s edible? I should’ve let you starve.”

“And _I_ risked being _poisoned,_ Miss Lewis,” he retorted, pausing with a forkful suspended halfway to his mouth. “With your suspicious-looking hell-fruit.”

He took a bite. He liked it. _How vexing._ Loki certainly did not want to admit that to _her._

Fortunately, Darcy was distracted, snickering away as she pulled out her phone. “Yeah, definitely going to have to post about one of our resident aliens calling a poor little innocent pineapple a _‘suspicious-looking hell-fruit,’”_ she said. “God, you’re _so_ weird. It’s almost cute.”

Loki was aghast. “What?”

“You heard me. By the way, on _Earth,_ it’s considered _rude_ to murder people for calling you cute. Might wanna keep that in mind.”

Glaring, Loki shoveled another forkful of the rice into his mouth; he _was_ hungry, after all. _Go ahead, mortal,_ he thought, feeling slightly vicious, _imagine that you’ve somehow bested me. Foolish child._

But it was difficult to maintain his ire and eat at the same time, and his tension slowly melted away, despite the triumphant little smirk on the mortal’s pretty face.

 _Norns, ‘the mortal’s pretty face?’_ What was _wrong_ with him?

“Think you can handle the lab?” she asked. “Bruce might be a little weird, after the whole grabby-bruisy revelation. But, I guess he also understands crazy bursts of rage better than most people.”

“I am not like that _monster.”_

“Yeah, you’re right. Bruce is _much_ more fun to be around. Total sweetheart.”

He grit his teeth. _Fine,_ he could play these games, as well. “I _do_ look forward to spending more quality time with Dr. Foster.”

Darcy made a face, placing her empty bowl on the table beside his with a dramatic sigh. “Being creepy just for the sake of being creepy. _Nice.”_

“Hmm. Best mind your tongue, Darcy Lewis, before I am forced to mind it for you.”

 _That_ finally got a genuine blush from her, and she rose to her feet. “C’mon,” she said brusquely, “let’s go. You can deal with the dishes later.”

Delighted that he had her on the run once again, Loki followed her without complaint.

 

* * *

 

They did not end up spending very much time in the laboratory, truly, for Loki was not particularly in a mood to be cooperative, and the mood in the air was… _tense,_ to say the least. Loki could only assume that Dr. Banner had shared Darcy’s revelations with Jane Foster, and he half-expected for her palm to come swinging at him. She _was_ rather excitable, after all.

But the few hours in the laboratory passed by without any physical altercations breaking out, and Loki _did_ manage to pay at least a _bit_ of attention to their explanations of their experiments. Really, he couldn’t imagine how he was going to work with them - Jane Foster did not seem to appreciate ‘magic’ as an explanation for anything, and Loki found her ‘science’ incredibly tedious and crude.

He’d been waiting all day to return to the training room with little Miss Lewis, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly… _enticed_ by her training attire, which was certainly more form-fitting than last time. And the material seemed so stretchy and _flimsy,_ as well, so _painfully_ easy to tear…

This was ridiculous - _he_ was being ridiculous. It had to stop.

Darcy did not seem particularly thrilled at the prospect of hopping back on the treadmill, but she did not wish to surrender in front of him, and so he watched as she struggled to keep up a pace he deemed adequate, sweat beading on her skin.

“This sucks with glasses,” she wheezed. “I feel like they’re gonna fly off my face.”

“If you can talk, mortal, then you can go faster.” And then he leaned over and pressed the little button to increase her speed, snickering as she grunted in annoyance, her brow furrowing in an expression of mulish determination.

By Valhalla, he almost thought she’d throw herself into the Void to prove her strength to him. It was both ridiculous, and perhaps slightly admirable. But only _slightly._

He took to running on the machine beside her, though it was odd, and he felt that it limited his pace. Perhaps it was for the best - he was still healing, after all. Darcy Lewis was likely to throw a fit if he started bleeding through his clothing again.

When she finally gave up and slowed her machine to a standstill, she was red-faced and panting. Loki hopped off of his, as well, grinning like a maniac. _He_ was not tired yet, so why should he allow _her_ to rest?

“Come along,” he said, extending a gentlemanly hand, which the mortal predictably swatted away. “Let us test your agility.”

Her eyes narrowed as she moved to stand before him on a padded area of the floor, her chest still heaving in a manner _most_ distracting. “Why do I _really_ not like the sound of that?”

“I am going to attempt to strike you, mortal.”

“Like _hell_ you are--” she spluttered, taking an immediate step backwards.

Loki followed after her. “Control yourself, ridiculous creature - I will, of course, restrain myself as much as possible.” She looked extremely uneasy, and he could not contain his smirk. “And truly, I am an _excellent_ training partner, for I excel at disarming larger opponents.”

“Yeah, or like… maybe you just want to know what my weaknesses are so you can take me out more conveniently later on.”

“That would presume that you have _strengths,_ would it not?”

Determination flared to light in her eyes - exactly as planned. He sighed happily, rather pleased with himself, and Darcy squared her shoulders. “Okay, whatever,” she muttered, balling up her hands into small fists. “Give it your best shot, Mischief.”

He laughed. “My ‘best shot’ would send you through the wall, Miss Lewis. Now, I am coming for your left shoulder. Move.”

To her credit, she reacted rather quickly… for a mortal. But he could see that it was in response to his words, not his subtle, painfully-slowed movements, and he still jabbed her with relative ease. “That was… poor,” he said. “Mediocre, I should say. You can do better.”

She glared, brushing the loose strands of sweat-soaked hair back from her face. “Okay, go again.”

“Hmm.” Circling her slowly, Loki wondered where best to strike; he did not wish to simply humiliate her, truly. If he was going to be forced to spend time with her (and possibly seduce her to use as his minion), then he might as well try to _improve_ her. “Ribs.”

Darcy moved a bit more quickly this time around, though her ungainly dodge still did not deliver her from his range. “Are you even _trying?”_ he asked as he flicked her in the side. “I am certain that I am moving no faster than an average mortal man.”

“Yeah, well an _average mortal man_ could probably knock me out, too, Mischief. Is _that_ what you wanna hear?”

Loki frowned. It was _not,_ in fact, what he wanted to hear; actually, the thought was surprisingly bothersome. She would improve with practice, though. He was _certain_ of it. “Throat,” he called out, lunging towards her.

And _that_ was how - _Norns be cursed_ \- Thor came to find him with his hand wrapped around the mortal’s neck.

 

* * *

 

Things had nearly taken a rather dire turn, once his fool of a brother had made his untimely appearance in the training room. Loki had dropped away from her immediately, feeling the tell-tale crackling of electricity in the air.

 _At least_ Thor no longer had his hammer. _That_ was something to be grateful for, he supposed.

Darcy had her back to the doorway, and so she had entirely missed the oaf’s entrance, and the way she staggered away from him, clearly out of breath, likely did little for Loki’s cause. “Brother, _wait--”_ he began, raising his arms placatingly, but Thor was already rocketing across the room, and Loki quickly found himself pinned against the wall.

He was slightly vexed at the fact that he had been so concerned over the _appearance_ of things that he hadn’t bothered to dodge from his brother’s grasp. _Wonderful._ “You know, this is _entirely_ unnecessary--” he tried again, but Thor clamped a hand over his mouth, furious.

“For _once_ in your life, Brother, _will you be silent?”_ Thor turned to glance over his shoulder, where a baffled-looking Darcy Lewis was standing exactly where Loki had left her, her hands on her knees. _Perhaps,_ he mused, he should not have worn her out _quite_ so thoroughly before their little fighting exercise… her condition _did_ look rather damning.

“Darcy,” Thor said, “are you harmed? What happened?”

“It’s... “ She paused, and Loki glared at her. _Go on, girl. Tell him to let me go._ “He was showing me how to dodge in a fight,” she said, throwing in a wry shrug for good measure. “It looks like I’m not very good at it, I guess.”

Thor turned back to him, eyes narrowed. “Is this true, Loki?”

He removed his hand, and Loki stretched his jaw - Thor was, as always, needlessly heavy-handed. “Would you believe me if I said that it is?”

“I would _want_ to believe you, Loki.” Sighing, Thor stepped back, and Loki slid to his feet. “Would you give us a moment, Darcy Lewis? I would have words with my brother.”

“Uh…” Her eyes darted between them as she wavered, painfully awkward. _Don’t you dare leave me here, little wretch,_ Loki seethed, but Fate was still against him. “I, uh… I’ll go take a shower,” she said, pointing unnecessarily towards the doorway. “Just don’t… throw him through the floor or anything, I guess? You guys play nice!”

Then she darted away, and Loki’s mind was filled with a litany of curses.

“What do _you_ want?” he snapped, rubbing his chest, which truly _did_ hurt quite a bit from the force of the impact, though the wound did not seem to have reopened.

“You’re _training her to fight,_ Loki? That is _truly_ what I’m expected to believe, when you have already caused her injury?”

“I am. If she intends to spend any amount of time around these mortal fools, then she should _learn_ to fight. Think of how _weak_ they are, how _vulnerable.”_

 _Think of Jane Foster,_ it went without saying, _who you almost lost so easily._

“And why do you care, Brother, if Darcy is _vulnerable?”_

Loki shrugged, smiling easily. “I find her efforts terribly entertaining,” he said. “Besides, she is _my_ servant, and I do not accept _mediocrity.”_

Thor made a face. “You must be more _gentle._ Midgardians… they are delicate. You could hurt her easily, _even if_ you do not mean to. Do you understand me?”

Lip curling scornfully, Loki pretended to brush dirt from the front of his shirt. “If you are trying to drop some _dreadful_ hints about your trysts with Jane Foster--”

 _“No,_ Loki.” Thor shoved his shoulder, and Loki tried to hide the fact that it _actually_ hurt, because the _last_ thing he wanted in that moment was for the sentimental idiot to discover how badly he was injured. “I am _not_ gaming with you. I _want_ to trust you, but you _must_ be more careful. If you harm Darcy Lewis, _even_ unintentionally, there will be Hel to pay, and I will not be able to stop it. You will be sent back to Asgard, and I confess, I do not know what Odin will do this time around.”

 _How appalling;_ Thor wasn’t simply worried over the fate of his little mortal _friend,_ he was worried over _Loki._ Such _terrible_ sentimentality… it would get him killed someday, Loki had no doubt.

But he was aching and tired and wanted to escape the conversation as quickly as possible, so he simply sighed and rolled his eyes. “I understand,” he said. “I will be _tender_ with little Darcy Lewis, Brother. Does _that_ satisfy you?”

“No, but I suppose it is a start.” Loki hoped that he’d leave, then, but he didn’t. “Come, I will walk you back to your chambers, since Darcy is not here to do so.”

_“Wonderful.”_

“You know,” Thor remarked as they made their way towards the elevator, “you have endured _thousands_ of years and likely just as many wild adventures by my side, Brother. I cannot imagine that another five minutes is truly so unbearable.”

Loki’s lips pressed into a thin line. He _hated_ when Thor tried that tone with him, when he tried to be _clever_ and _insightful._ _Too much like Frigga._ “You were never _known_ for your imagination.”

Thor huffed; it might have been a laugh, though it was a weak one. He let Loki into his room without another word, and Loki heard his footsteps trail away a moment after.

He almost felt… _something._

He just wasn’t certain what it was.

 

* * *

 

Darcy would not come to him that night, Loki was nearly certain. She had even said that he would enjoy being rid of her, hadn’t she? And that _should_ be true.

But it wasn’t.

He took care of the dishes by hand; it would’ve taken only an instant with his magic, but he wanted to move about - and besides, it wasn’t as if there was anyone there to _see_ him acting like a servant, was there?

 _No,_ there was no one there, at all. Loki was entirely alone.

There were plenty of leftovers from their lunch, so he ate more of the pineapple stir-fry. At least she wasn’t there to see how much he _really_ enjoyed it, and once he’d finished it off, he decided that if she asked, he’d simply tell her that he’d tossed the rest out with the rubbish.

Then he picked through the freezer, selecting a carton of iced cream, which she’d _sworn_ was very similar to the custard. His sweet tooth was troubling him; he hadn’t had time to be bothered with it in… well, in years. When one was trapped in the Void, such things did not seem as _important._

 _“Mint chocolate chip.”_ He opened the lid, staring at the contents of the odd little box in consternation. It was green and speckled, and he wasn’t entirely certain that he _wanted_ it.

But it smelled pleasant enough, he supposed, and so he seized a spoon from the drawer and carried his prize to the couch, sampling this ‘iced cream’ carefully.

Loki groaned - he had to admit, mortals seemed to have their sweets figured out; perhaps he’d keep one as a cook in the palace, when he was king.

 _If_ he was ever king.

Was that still a part of his plans?

The knock on the door was unwelcomed; he had no patience to deal with any more of Darcy Lewis’s would-be champions, and he stalked towards it with his iced cream in hand, ready to send whoever it was running with some scathing words and an even-more-scathing glare.

But when the door opened, it was none other than Darcy Lewis herself standing before him, attired in nothing but a baggy sack of a shirt that reached past her knees. There were Midgardian _cats_ on it, of all things. _Pink_ Midgardian cats. _Ghastly._

“Hey,” she said, almost sheepishly. “Sorry you almost got in trouble back there… even though, I mean, if we’re being honest, you probably _totally_ deserved it…”

Loki stepped aside, face carefully blank, and Darcy sidled into the room, biting her lip. “And?” he prompted, taking another bite of his dessert.

Her eyes lit up. “I _knew_ you’d like that,” she declared. “The mint. You’re minty.” When he just stared at her, she flushed. “I mean, you smell minty. Like gum? You… do you know what gum is?”

He shook his head, then made his way back to his seat, entirely content to let her wallow in her guilt for as long as possible. She followed, of course, and Loki tried to maintain his air of betrayal as she perched herself on the cushion beside him.

“I mean, you know what _mint_ smells like.”

Loki nodded, keeping his eyes on the television screen. It was some show about… _rivers,_ perhaps? He hadn’t really been paying attention.

“Um… I thought… I mean, I was kind of pissed about the whole ‘mocking my total lack of athletic ability’ thing, but I just wanted you to know that I _do_ really appreciate it. Really. I’m not in Kansas anymore, as the kids say. If I’m going to be around all these superheroes, I should at least _try_ to learn to defend myself.”

Slowly, he licked his spoon clean - more for dramatic effect than anything else - then finally turned towards her, brow raised. “Is that all you needed, Miss Lewis?”

Darcy’s face fell, and Loki was practically cackling with delight, though he kept it internal. “I guess I thought you might be bored, or something. It’s only…” She checked her phone. “It’s only eleven-thirty.”

“That’s quite late, isn’t it? Don’t we have a busy schedule tomorrow? You’ll have to remind me - I do not get to choose it _myself,_ after all.”

“Yeah.” Her gaze dropped, and she moved to stand. “I’ll just go, then. Sorry I bothered you.”

When he grabbed her wrist _this_ time, Loki was careful to be _gentle._ “Sit,” he ordered. “Eat some of the iced cream.”

“Ice cream.”

“What?”

“It’s _ice_ cream, not _iced_ cream.”

“Do you _want_ it,” he asked with forced politeness, “or _not?”_

“Yeah, I do,” Darcy mumbled, dropping back down onto the couch beside him and snatching the half-empty carton from his hand. “I _love_ mint.”

 

* * *

 

Darcy yelped and burrowed halfway behind his back, and Loki pretended to be irritated, though he was really rather pleased that she sought shelter behind him. “Oh, _God,”_ she whined, _“why_ are we watching this at _one in the morning?”_

“I cannot imagine why _this_ frightens you, mortal; you are tasked with accompanying a _literal_ god, and a wicked one, at that. This is mere child’s play, in comparison.”

“Yeah, well, horror movies are _meant_ to scare you, _Loki.”_

She reemerged from behind his shoulder, though she remained pressed against him, the blanket she’d dragged out of his bedroom practically pulled up to her chin. Loki, for his part, was much more bothered by his terrible awareness that she was in nothing more than a short dress - or shirt, or whatever the abominable pink thing was - _underneath_ the blanket, and that her current curled-up position likely had it hiked up in all _sorts_ of interesting ways.

“Do not worry,” he said, and then, with almost frightening ease, he slid his arm around the back of the couch behind her. “If you become possessed by spirits, Darcy Lewis, I will exorcise you myself.”

“Thanks, I _think._ Oh, God, _he’s in the room with you!”_ She fell back against him as the unfortunate heroine on the screen blindly scrambled around in the darkness, searching for the demon that plagued her. “Remind me to _never_ go to any creepy-ass castles in Europe, Mischief. _Christ.”_

“Perhaps the trick is to simply not attract evil otherworldly beings,” he remarked lightly, his chest thrumming with satisfaction at the way she leaned in to his side.

“Yeah, well _perhaps_ evil otherworldly beings should learn to keep their freaking hands to themselves.”

It seemed that the irony was _entirely_ lost on her, and Loki smirked.

“Oh my _God, don’t go to the lake!”_

 _“She_ cannot hear you, Miss Lewis, but _I_ can, and your volume is terribly unpleasant.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

But she resumed her chastisement of the poor doomed mortal soon, regardless, and Loki decided that he did not entirely mind it. It was somewhat entertaining, to see how invested she was in some fictional character’s fate.

 _Silly little thing._ The thought was accompanied, worryingly enough, with more fondness than disdain.

And he did not protest when she declared her intent to watch some documentary about the ocean to clear her mind once the film had ended, though he did not see why she bothered with the pretense - _surely_ she realized, as he did, that she wasn’t going anywhere else that night.

And, indeed, Loki felt something that he _might’ve_ \- had he been more generous with his own emotions - identified as _happiness_ when her head finally slumped into the crook of his arm, sleep claiming her with surprising ease.

Certainly, it was a conscious decision on his part to allow himself to fall asleep beside her, and the fact that he’d engineered the scenario somehow allowed him to excuse it.

His sleep was sound, but not so heavy that the door opening did not wake him the following morning, and Loki opened bleary eyes, momentarily confused, for Darcy Lewis was still nestled under his arm, fast asleep.

Tony Stark stood just on the other side of the coffee table, fidgeting with the watch on his wrist, the look on his face one that could only be described as ‘ _extreme discomfort.’_

“So,” he said. “Reindeer Games. Looks like we might need to revisit that whole _‘compromising my employees’_ conversation, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #TowerTuesdays
> 
> (Okay, maybe not *every* Tuesday, but a girl can have goals, right??)
> 
> And yeah, the horror movie is totally me being self-referential. Go read [Your Ghost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14121693/chapters/32541111)!
> 
> It also updated today! :D


	9. Snark & Solitude

For a moment, Loki was overcome with the urge to simply shove Darcy Lewis’s slumbering body away from his side, feeling rather like a guilty child caught with a treat he’d stolen from the kitchens. And indeed, the look on Tony Stark’s face was almost horrifyingly…  _ paternal. _

Instead, quickly collecting himself, he pressed his palm against her forehead as she began to stir, sending her deeper into her dreams; he thought it best that he deal with this himself, without her waking up and running her smart little mouth.

Sighing deeply, Stark swiped a covered paper cup from the table - one of two that Loki had failed to notice in his panic. “That’s a neat trick,” he said, collapsing into the couch as if he were made of lead. _ Or iron. _ “You’re using some kind of energy pulse to stimulate the ventrolateral preoptic nucleus, I guess?” He nodded towards the lone cup on the table. “Coffee?”

Frowning, Loki called it to his hand; any errant movements, and he might risk waking Miss Lewis - he had  _ barely _ put her under, after all. He left his hand resting on her head, keeping her held snugly against him. Since he’d been caught, he decided that he might as well  _ own _ the situation. Besides, it was  _ clearly _ making Stark uncomfortable, and  _ that _ was victory enough in and of itself. 

“So,” Stark began, “I just know you’ve got an  _ unbelievably _ straightforward explanation for this.”

“Of course.” Loki decided that a predatory leer was  _ quite _ perfect for the moment. “Dear little Miss Lewis was too  _ exhausted _ to return to her chambers during the night, I’m afraid. Being, as I am, a  _ gentleman, _ I thought it best to keep her here until she recovered.”

“I just…” Stark heaved another weary sigh, pressing his temples. “Look, spare me the frat boy innuendo, okay? I know you two didn’t seal the deal.” He grimaced as he surveyed the room, muttering. “Probably half of my ridiculously expensive furniture would be broken if you had.”

“Well, Stark, I’m  _ flattered _ that you think so highly of me—”

“Not you.” Rolling his eyes, he tapped on his watch, and the massive window opened, bathing the room in the early-morning light. “Not to be dramatic or anything, but this might  _ actually _ be the most uncomfortable morning of my entire life.”

Loki snorted, almost… _ amused? _

_ How unexpected. _

“Thor told me about your plan to make Austen there a little more formidable,” Stark said after a moment. “And it’s a good idea. In fact, it gave  _ me _ an idea, and I wanted to talk to you about it. Off-the-record.”

“Why the need for secrecy?”

_ “Because,” _ he replied, pulling a small silver ring out of his pocket and holding it up in the light, “S.H.I.E.L.D. has all these  _ weird _ little hang-ups about me arming civilians without their approval. And if they’re already keeping an eye on Lewis for some nefarious covert operation… Well, let’s just say I like to look after my own.”

“I see.” But truly, Loki did  _ not _ understand, and he was frankly rather baffled at the route the conversation had taken. “Go on, then.”

“Well, I stayed up last night making this little beauty.” He smiled, and it was a disturbingly  _ knowing _ look. “No rest for the wicked, right?”

“And this little trinket of yours does… what, exactly?”

“It’s custom-made for our resident Taser Queen, actually. Basically a stun gun, but with a lot more punch than anything currently on the market. Wide-range, multiple targets... It’s got enough firepower to take out a  _ god _ and a couple dozen of his closest minions, theoretically. Or something worse.”

Loki cocked his head to the side, choosing to ignore the pointed jab. He feigned disinterest, though the schemer in him was truly dying of curiosity. “Impressive. This involves me… how?”

“Well, I obviously need some help calibrating it.”

“You came here to ask me if I’d willingly allow you to shoot me with untested Midgardian technology that is specifically  _ designed _ to cause me injury?”

“More or less.”

“I thought you were more clever than that, Stark.”

“Yeah? I dunno, Mordred, I think you’ll say yes.”

A sharp smile graced Loki’s features, but it was barely held in place; in truth, Darcy Lewis had angled her head, and now her nose was just  _ slightly _ brushing his neck. It was horribly distracting. “Why should I?”

“Well, because I’m  _ paying _ you to cooperate, for one thing. You know that’s part of the deal, right? You have to  _ actually _ contribute something? And we both know you and Thor don’t have the same physical makeup, so it’s not like I can just haul him in and light him up. Besides, he doesn’t have the healing capabilities you do. I wanna see how long this takes you out.”

Stark took another sip of his coffee, looking out the window. “It’s also your chance to be gallant, for once. Isn’t that what you space Vikings are into?  _ ‘Prithee, fair maiden, how mayest I—’” _

“That is quite enough,” Loki snapped, his fun quickly souring. He did not particularly care if they thought he was  _ bedding _ Darcy Lewis - in fact, he might even enjoy the havoc it was certain to wreak if they  _ did _ \- but Norns help him if they thought he actually wanted to earn her  _ favor… _

But, wretchedly enough, Stark was right. He  _ did _ want to earn her favor, didn’t he? That was what he’d been working towards, what all of his current plans rested upon. He simply had not intended for it to become such a…  _ public _ matter.

“Very well,” he said, “but I trust that, as you seek discretion, you will also  _ be _ discreet.”

“What, you don’t want S.H.I.E.L.D. to start working up a profile on your slumber parties?” Stark managed a smirk, but Loki’s face was stone. “Actually, they probably would. They’re  _ all over you. _ Every move you make outside of this room is being picked apart. And we both know it isn’t because they’re worried about  _ her.” _

Loki was  _ extraordinarily _ familiar with the concept of masking stress with idle chatter, which is why he could see then, with exceptional clarity, just how  _ tired _ of a man Tony Stark had become. “Then why?”

“I don’t know.” He stood abruptly, walking over to look out at the cityscape. Loki could not tell if he found the buildings full of people stretching as far as the eye could see soothing, or worrisome. “But it’s starting to piss me off.”

“I’m touched.”

“Don’t be. I promise, this isn’t about you; it’s about my own ego. I don’t like being manipulated.”

“Perhaps then, Stark, I am a poor choice for a confidante.”

“Probably. I’ll blame it on the sleep deprivation.” He made his way back over to the couch, and for a moment or two, Loki thought he might be on the cusp of telling him to wake Darcy up, or to move away from her, or something predictably  _ protective… _

Instead, Stark simply frowned. “I don’t really understand this,” he said finally, “and I sure as hell don’t  _ like _ it, but I’ll give Lewis the benefit of the doubt.” He paused by the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face. “And I’d  _ love _ to see the fallout when she finds out you kept her unconscious while the  _ men _ discussed her wellbeing.”

Then the door swished, and the Iron Man was gone.

 

* * *

 

Loki had not been particularly eager to mention the fact that Tony Stark had paid them a visit, and even after he’d lifted his spell, Darcy had continued to nestle in his side for quite some time, so her waking was a very gentle, natural thing. 

With any luck, she wouldn’t ever even  _ know _ that he had kept her dreaming while, as Stark put it, ‘the men’ talked things through. If she  _ did,  _ it was likely very fortunate that little Miss Lewis was neither as strong-armed nor as well-trained in combat as the Lady Sif, for he could easily imagine them of a similar temperament. 

When she had awoken, she’d feigned embarrassment. Or, at least, Loki  _ assumed _ that it was merely an act - how could she possibly be so bashful, when she had  _ intentionally _ fallen asleep at his side? 

He was beginning to believe that mortal flirtations might be a bit more tricky than he’d previously supposed. 

Was he  _ also _ supposed to pretend that it was an accidental thing? He decided that it seemed most in-character, and so he made certain to be slightly disparaging. “Do you think that I am the god called upon to watch over one’s slumber, Darcy Lewis?” he’d asked with a saccharine smile.

But, rather than the scowl and sass that he’d expected, the mortal had simply shrugged, yawning loudly. “I dunno, maybe you  _ should _ be. You’re pretty good at it.”

Loki was quite taken aback.

Once she left to bathe and prepare for the day (and he  _ did _ notice that she crept out into the hallway a bit guiltily, this time), Loki’s confusion morphed into something closer to irritation. First Tony Stark waltzed into his chambers first thing in the morning to demand his talents and his time, and then  _ little Darcy Lewis _ thought that she could  _ tease _ him?

_ Go on, then, little girl,  _ he thought.  _ Welcome me into your dreams. I dare you. _

 

* * *

 

Breakfast was a relatively cheerful affair; now that Loki had a delightful bit of mischief in mind, he was more content to play his part as a member of the  _ team. _ In fact, he found himself in  _ such  _ a good mood, he even volunteered to make enough of the delightful mocha drink for both himself and Darcy. 

And when she asked him to put the strange little ring-shaped breads she called ‘bagels’ into the heater, he was only  _ slightly _ piqued. 

He  _ did _ have to eat, after all.

“You know,” she said, settling into a stool across from him, her mug in her hands, “I, uh… I can talk to Thor, if you want. Reassure him that you aren’t planning to murder me and steal my skin.” Frowning, she stared down as she swirled her coffee. “You  _ aren’t _ planning to murder me and steal my skin, are you?”

“No,” Loki replied, “not  _ literally, _ of course. Don’t be disgusting.”

Her frown deepened into a scowl. “Do you  _ want _ me to do some liaison-ing between you and your brother, or not?”

“I do not need you to fight my battles for me, Miss Lewis.” 

“That’s cream cheese.”

He glanced up from the small tub he’d been closely examining. “What?”

“That’s cream cheese. Is that  _ really _ not a thing in Asgard? Just… try it.”

“I suppose it is decent enough,” he admitted, “though I do not understand why everything on Midgard must be so  _ packaged. _ And all of these  _ labels _ for everything seem grossly unnecessary.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t all have the royal chefs catering to our every whim, so…”

“A fair point.” He spread the  _ cream cheese _ on his second bagel with a degree of precision that Darcy Lewis seemed to find unnerving. “I will take you there, Darcy, when I return.  _ If _ you prove to be a useful servant to me during my time on Midgard, of course. I have always wanted a familiar...”

“Yeah, yeah, _ ‘Darcy’s my servant blah blah blah.’ _ Get more  _ creative,  _ Mischief.”

“I could turn you into a cat, if you  _ insist _ upon creativity. Are black cats not the creature of choice for earthly sorcerers?”

Darcy snorted. “For witches, maybe. You do kinda have that vibe, I guess. Ooh, sucks that Halloween was a couple of weeks ago - we could’ve rocked that.”

Loki had apparently triggered some rambling train of thought, though he hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about. “What  _ vibe?” _ he asked, selecting yet another bagel. “What is  _ Halloween?” _

“Your vibe is that you’re basically a witch—”

“I am not—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  _ God-sorcerer,  _ or whatever.  _ Anyways, _ Halloween is fantastic. It’s a festival, and it’s associated with the dead and spirits and fall and all kinds of cool stuff. People wear costumes.”

“Ah. We have a festival around the beginning of winter, as well.  Vetrnætr, it is called. The mortals used to make sacrifices to the elves and the gods during the old days.”

He sat in silence for a moment, easily picturing the crackling of the bonfires, the snow, the dancing; how long had it been, in truth, since he had participated in Vetrnætr revelries? The seasons in the Realm Eternal were long, and with all that had happened leading up to Thor’s coronation… it must’ve been years.

Darcy’d said something, which he’d managed to entirely miss. “What was that, Miss Lewis?”

“Slow down on the bagels,” she said, though she looked as though she were about to laugh, “and I asked why they sacrificed things to you guys. I mean… it’s so weird. We’re sitting here eating bagels in a skyscraper, and you’re telling me about all these… like, these ancient  _ rituals. _ Well, I guess it’s easier to picture with you, since you’re so  _ dramatic _ all the time. But Thor? Can’t imagine it.”

“We are  _ gods, _ Darcy Lewis. I do not understand why that is so difficult for you to comprehend. They wanted our blessings, and they feared our displeasure. It is a lesson,” he added, leaning across the counter, “that  _ you _ would do well to learn. As for the elves, they were thought to hold sway over souls. Some of them  _ do _ tend to gravitate towards the macabre.”

“Hmm. I wonder what it would’ve been like. I almost wish I could’ve seen it, y’know? Step back in time.”

He smirked as they made their way from the kitchen to the laboratory. “Had I encountered  _ you _ in the old days, mortal, I am fairly certain I would’ve had no choice but to smite at once for your irreverence.”

She rolled her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “Who knows? Maybe back then, I would’ve been more reverent.”

“I highly doubt it.”

At that, she finally broke into a grin, her odd temperament from the morning displaced. “Yeah,” she agreed. “You’re probably right, Mischief. Viking Darcy Lewis, pissing of evil gods. Boy, what fun  _ that _ would’ve been.”

Somehow, Loki couldn’t help but agree.

 

* * *

 

Having to endure Tony Stark first thing in the morning was an annoyance that - in Loki’s mind -  _ entirely _ fulfilled his obligation to ‘participate’ with any Avengers activities for the day. That is why, though he remained in the laboratory for hours with no complaints, he  _ also _ did not bother to offer any assistance. 

The frustration on Jane Foster’s face was entertainment enough, though she seemed hesitant to lash out. He wondered  _ why _ that might be.

Had Stark spoken to her? Had  _ Thor? _ Was she simply apprehensive because of the increased surveillance, worried that S.H.I.E.L.D. might swoop in and interfere with her precious little scientific experiments if she started a brawl with him?

“That’s… that’s all for today, Loki, I think. I mean, we’re good. You can go… do your thing.” 

At least she had the decency to look uncomfortable once she realized that ‘doing his own thing’ essentially equated to sitting in his pretty cage of a room.

Though, Loki was actually rather pleased at the prospect of having another afternoon free; with a bit of charm, he might be able to convince Miss Lewis to help him skulk about the Tower. He had some very pressing  _ questions,  _ and he might as well make her even more complicit in his schemes. After all, with her curious nature and her apparent craving for adventure, allowing her to feel a part of his plotting was  _ certain _ to make her grow more attached.

It was an unfortunate snag in his plans, then, when Darcy informed him at his door that she had lunch plans, and that he would be on his own for the rest of the day.

There was some  _ other _ feeling mixed in with his irritation at the fact that she’d spoiled his afternoon… but oddly enough, Loki could not place it.

 

* * *

 

_ “I’m coming in, Blitzen. Hope you aren’t doing anything incriminating.” _

Loki glared at the intercom by the door; tragically, that did nothing to forestall the arrival of the Iron Man, who seemed to be in much better spirits than he had been that morning.  _ “Somehow,”  _ he snapped, “I did not expect to have to entertain my captor in my chambers at all hours.”

Stark settled onto his former seat, a bag of…  _ something _ in hand. Some variety of berry, perhaps? Loki was becoming increasingly frustrated at his lack of familiarity with Midgardian foodstuffs.

“If you could  _ not _ make it sound like you’re some kind of war bride, that would be nice. And hey, I figured you’d be bored, considering Austen’s off with that intern of hers. Ian, I think?” His eyes sparkled as he feigned innocence, and Loki was sorely tempted to curse him then and there. “Lanky British guy?”

“We’ve met.”

But his tone only made Stark’s grin widen. “What, not a fan?”

“Are you here for a  _ reason,  _ Stark?”

“Of course I am. I wanted to follow up on the whole ‘testing weapons on you’ thing. It doesn’t seem like you have anything  _ better _ to do.”

“Your powers of persuasion are severely lacking.”

“You know,” the mortal replied breezily, rising to his feet, “if Lewis has a  _ proven _ way to take you out - a Plan B, you could say - then I  _ might _ be able to figure out a way to expand your boundaries a little.”

“You are asking me to collar and leash myself so that I might be taken out for  _ walks _ by a  _ mortal?” _

“Yeah, and you’re  _ dying  _ to get out of the Tower, which is why you’re gonna do it. Come on, you’re just wasting time.”

Loki frowned, but he  _ had _ already agreed to do it, and he supposed that the sooner he got it over with, the better. Perhaps  _ then,  _ Stark would leave him alone for a time. “Fine,” he said, gritting his teeth and pushing himself to his feet. “I will allow it.”

“How magnanimous,  _ Your Eminence.” _

_ I will make you bow before me,  _ his temper whispered as he followed his new  _ teammate _ down the polished hallways.  _ All of you. You  _ will _ kneel.  _

_ Sooner or later.  _

 

* * *

 

Kneeling, Loki gasped for breath, his nerves burning from what he could only describe as a  _ continual  _ and  _ persistent _ blast of lightning. With a curse that he couldn’t quite gather the air to voice, he threw out a hand, knocking the smirking Iron Man into the nearest padded wall with a concentrated burst of seiðr. 

Stark’s helmet whirred and opened, revealing a face that was most definitely  _ displeased.  _ “The  _ hell  _ was that?”

Loki pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his trousers with as much bravado as he could muster. “You wish to see if that  _ thing  _ will incapacitate me, don’t you?  _ This  _ is what will happen if I am  _ not _ incapacitated.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, then - much to Loki’s surprise - a wry laugh. “Okay, fair enough. How bad was it that time?”

_ “Extremely _ unpleasant, obviously. If I might offer a word of advice?”

“Shoot.”

“If this weapon of yours is truly meant to stop someone like  _ me,  _ it would be wise of you to focus your efforts on impeding my powers, not causing me pain. I can endure a great deal of pain.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Stark rose, his suit of armor folding away. “You’re also bleeding.”

Loki frowned down at himself, cursing internally as he realized that the wound had managed to reopen.  _ Again. _ He was beginning to grow  _ slightly _ concerned about that; he’d hoped it would’ve healed over by now. 

“Yes,” he said, for these was no point in trying to deny it, “I suppose I am.  _ Brilliant _ observational skills, Stark.”

“Can it, Mordred. Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

“Unnecessary.”

Stark simply stared at him, brow raised. 

_ By the Ginnungagap,  _ Loki fumed,  _ whatever did I do to deserve so much accursed mortal concern?  _ He neither wanted it, nor  _ needed  _ it. 

“I am healing on my own,” he snapped. “There is nothing you can do to aid me.”

“Okay.” There was another uncomfortable pause. “Want a drink?”

What sort of game was he playing at? As suspicious as he was at such a gesture of comraderie, he was  _ also _ rather exhausted, and if Stark was so eager to talk… well, perhaps he could find a way to use it to his advantage. “If you insist.”

 

* * *

 

Loki stared down at the amber-colored  _ something _ in his glass - he couldn’t remember what Stark had called it, and he did not particularly care - lamenting the fact that he’d been so  _ naive _ as to hope that it might actually have an effect on him. 

He should’ve known better.

Stark had insisted that he go and change clothes and bandage himself before they made their way to the penthouse, standing just outside of his door and making snide comments the entire time. Loki was actually rather grateful for it; he couldn’t stand to even  _ think _ of the indignity of being fussed over by yet  _ another _ mortal.

Though, when it was Darcy Lewis fussing over him, he supposed he really did not mind  _ too _ terribly.

He wished, once again, that the drink was stronger.

Why had he offered  _ actual _ advice on Stark’s weapon? Was it simply because he enjoyed solving problems, even if the problem in question was himself? Was it because,  _ were _ she to eventually join him in his schemes, little Darcy Lewis might  _ need _ so powerful a weapon?

Beings like him were not particularly  _ common _ in the Nine Realms, but it wasn’t as if he had particularly  _ amicable _ relationships with most of the immortal magic-wielders he’d come across in his younger days… 

He’d never particularly feared retribution, either, for the Æsir were powerful enough to take care of themselves. Thor might be incredibly foolish, but he had the constitution of a rock-troll; Loki had never worried overmuch as to how he’d fare in battle against any of the sorcerers or witches Loki had angered.

But Darcy Lewis? Darcy Lewis might as well be made of _ glass. _

_ Yes, _ choosing a mortal girl for a lackey was not one of his cleverest ideas.

“To think,” Stark said suddenly, leaning against his bar, “it’s only been a year since you threw me through my own window. Time flies.”

Loki scoffed. “A year is nothing - the blink of an eye.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s how it felt when you were in prison, right?”

Loki finished off his glass and reached for the bottle.  _ Damned mortals. _ “Why am I here?”

“That’s what I keep asking myself, Blitzen. Why  _ are _ you here?” Stark moved into his field of vision, for Loki stubbornly stared straight ahead, refusing to give the mortal man any evidence of how unnerved he was by all of this…  _ conversation. _

It was as if they’d decided to torture him with false normalcy, and he despised it.

“Meaning?”

_ “Meaning, _ I’ve done a lot of thinking since your alien invasion -  _ ridiculously _ cliché, by the way. Thor gave us a rundown of what you can typically do, you know. All the witchery, crazy illusions, shapeshifting. You weren’t exactly on your A-game during the Battle of New York,  _ were _ you?”

Loki decided to forgo the glass entirely. _ How much of this would it take to make me feel something?  _ he wondered. Or to  _ stop _ feeling things entirely, for he  _ certainly _ shouldn’t be craving the sanctuary of his chambers right now, complete with Darcy Lewis in her  _ hideous _ pajamas and the smell of maple syrup in the air.

Stark was watching him with a keen eye, and Loki kept his face blank, already knowing where the conversation was heading, and dreading it terribly. His day was already ruined, and now he felt downright  _ belligerent. _

“Go ahead, don’t say anything.” The mortal sat down on one of the other plush couches, reclining with a glass in one hand. “I’m just thinking out loud here. It’s weird - you didn’t hold back on killing, but you  _ did _ do a terrible job of finishing off the only people who could close your portal. And, it’s even  _ weirder, _ honestly, that Selvig was able to build a killswitch into the device in the first place. Don’t you think?”

Loki placed the empty bottle on the coffee table without a word, rising to go in search of another. 

“Because, see,” Stark continued, voice slightly raised to call after him, “Clint says that you owned  _ every single thought _ he had once you whipped out the Glowstick of Destiny. No secrets. And then, in the eleventh hour… you crash and burn. Get the crap kicked out of you by the Hulk, lose your army to a  _ design _ flaw. You’re supposed to be better than that, right? A  _ god?” _

He found a bottle in one of the cabinets that looked promising - he had no idea what it might taste like, but it looked  _ expensive, _ and so he decided that it would be the perfect way to needle the Iron Man. “Do you  _ always _ require an audience to ‘think out loud?’ That is proof of some underlying pathology, surely.”

“Oh, yeah, let me take psychological advice from the would-be conqueror of Earth.” Stark rolled his eyes as Loki returned to his seat. “Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m getting at.”

Loki’s smile was thin. “I am  _ sure _ that I have no idea, mortal.”

“You threw the fight.”

His fingers tightened on the neck of the bottle, but he caught himself before he shattered it. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“I don’t know. There’s no way we should’ve won, though. I don’t sleep much. I’ve thought about it a lot. More than I should, probably.” Sighing, Stark sank more deeply into the cushions of the couch. “That’s  _ one _ reason you’re here, I guess. I want to know.”

Loki said nothing in reply, and for a blessed while, the two managed to simply sit there in silence, looking out of the window at the city that one had tried to destroy, and the other had saved.

 

* * *

 

He did not rest well that night. While he might’ve expected Agent Romanoff or Barton to try playing mind games with him, Loki hadn’t expected Stark to try to strike up some sort of…  _ what was it? _ False camaraderie?

It was unsettling.

Miss Lewis  _ had _ sent him a message on the datapad, reminding him that she would not be around that evening to - as she put it - ‘take care of him.’ He wasn’t  _ entirely _ certain if she was simply embarrassed and avoiding a repeat of the previous evening, or if it was a calculated ploy to frustrate him, but either way, it strengthened his resolve to work his mischief with her in the night.

Dreams, much like prayers, had always offered a route for a god to slip into a mortal mind, though it was an art that few had mastered. Fortunately, Loki had always been  _ fascinated _ by the chaotic potential of nightmares, and so he was, after many centuries of experience, one of the best dream-weavers in the Nine.

Perhaps  _ the _ best dream-weaver, in fact; Frigga had claimed that he surpassed even the goddess Nótt, his grandmother.  _ Not my grandmother,  _ he reminded himself, stretching out on his bed.  _ Thor’s grandmother. _

And so, it was with relative ease that Loki’s mind slipped from his form and followed the lure of Miss Lewis’s dreams. It was something that he had not done in quite some time, and he could tell by the pull on his power that he was out of practice.

_ No matter.  _ He’d decided to use this time amongst the mortals to refine some of his more  _ subtle _ skills. 

He’d thought to give her nightmares - it seemed fitting, after all; she might’ve chosen to sleep by his side, but she  _ hadn’t, _ so why should she dream peacefully? However, when Loki  _ did _ finally creep into Darcy’s dreams, he was startled to discover that he was already there.

_ She was dreaming of him. _

Their earlier conversation must’ve sparked something in the little mortal’s imagination, for the version of Darcy that sprinted through the snow in front of his double was dressed as a peasant wench from days long gone, and Loki nearly laughed at the realization that he now beheld - as she’d put it -  _ Viking Darcy Lewis. _

“You’re pretty slow for a  _ god,” _ she cried out over her shoulder, and then he  _ did _ laugh, for while the imagined version of him in her dreams might not be able to catch her, the  _ real _ Loki certainly could. 

Darcy shrieked as she collided with his chest, falling onto her back in the snow. The delightful thing about being in one’s dreams was the ability to  _ feel _ them, and he could feel her now - her pounding little heart, her fear, her  _ excitement... _

The excitement was, admittedly, unexpected. Wasn’t this supposed to be a nightmare?

As he scooped her up by the collar of her tunic, Loki was amused to note that the costume her mind had dreamed up for him was  _ incredibly _ old-fashioned. Dream-Loki faded as true-Loki took his place, but not before he had time to note that she’d  _ also _ taken it upon herself to imagine him with a braid in his hair.  _ Ridiculous.  _

But, he supposed, at least the fact that he was in costume should help to mask the fact that he was inhabiting her dreams. A sudden appearance of his modern clothing was certain to be jarring.

Her fingers wrapped around his gloved hands as he hoisted her to her tiptoes. “You were saying,  _ mortal?” _

Darcy’s cheeks flushed, her eyes wide, and Loki suddenly wondered how much of the dream he’d missed; why  _ was _ she fleeing from him in this odd little dream of hers, anyhow?

“What… what are you going to  _ do _ with me?” There was a breathiness to her voice that he wasn’t used to, and it gave him pause.

_ What to say? _ Something villainous, he supposed, to fit with this storyline of hers. He set her back down on her feet, circling her slowly. “I could kill you. You are an incredibly  _ disrespectful _ little wench, after all. Daring to defy the gods.  _ Blasphemy.” _

“No, please—”

That unexpected feeling he’d encountered grew stronger still as she trembled, and Loki understood then that it  _ was _ excitement, though it was a different flavor than he’d initially thought. The realization hit him sharply.

_ Oh. _

“Perhaps I will  _ take _ you, instead.”

He was almost surprised to hear himself say it - but then, now was the time to be bold, wasn’t it? This was  _ her _ dream, after all; she couldn’t possibly blame  _ him _ for playing along. Besides, he sincerely doubted that this was a dream she’d ever dare mention.

She bit her lip as he leaned forward, brushing his lips against her ear, and he heard her gasp. Loki entirely understood the sentiment; his heart was beating rather rapidly, as well. He told himself that it was simply an effect of her vivid emotions polluting his own.

_ “That _ is how you may worship me,  _ Darcy.” _

Loki was thrown into his own body as the girl woke suddenly, and for a time, he simply lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

It hadn’t gone as expected.

He’d intended to conjure up some frightening visions - something from the film that had unsettled her so greatly, perhaps - and to leave it at that. He would’ve made a snide reference to it the next morning, something  _ just _ pointed enough to let her know that he had been responsible...

But  _ this?  _

_ Make no mention of it, _ he decided. He needed time to think.

And, unable to sleep, that was  _ precisely _ what he did for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

“How was yesterday afternoon, flying solo?”

“Tolerable.”

Darcy huffed in irritation, much to Loki’s satisfaction; it was  _ her _ fault that he’d spent much of the previous day with Tony Stark and then experienced such  _ painfully _ frustrating dreams, after all. How  _ dare _ she? So far, he had managed to limit all of his responses to either slight nods or single words.

“Do you want to work out today?”

Loki inclined his head slightly.

“Tony just sent me a message to check on your stab-wound,” she said, apparently deciding that ignoring his mood was the best way to deal with it. “How did he find out about  _ that?” _

“Sparring.” He shoved another forkful of her ‘southwest scramble’ into his mouth, his expression blasé.

_ “Intentional  _ sparring, or like, ‘ran into each other in the hallway and had a meltdown’ sparring?”

“Intentional.”

“Huh. You know, you’re going to lose the ‘Silvertongue’ title if you keep this up, Mischief.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I am not unduly concerned about  _ that,  _ Darcy .”

Her cheeks reddened almost at once.

_ Victory. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #TowerTuesdays! I'm gonna aim to make it an every-other-week sort of deal, I think. 
> 
> I felt so bad, throwing poor Tony under the bus at the end of that last chapter! XD He's just trying to look after everyone! <3 
> 
> Anyways, hope y'all enjoy this one! Thank you so much for all of your comments/love! :D


	10. Popcorn & Nightmares

“Thursdays suck, because it’s  _ almost _ Friday, but not quite. But Fridays are obviously wonderful, because the  _ entire _ weekend’s still ahead.”

“I have to admit, the structure of the Midgardian work-week continues to baffle me.”

“Well, it’s not like you ever had a job before, right? I imagine every day is the weekend when you’re royalty.”

“Quite the opposite, Miss Lewis - one does not receive  _ days off _ from ruling a kingdom. Do you really imagine that Odin Allfather allowed his sons to lounge about the palace day in and day out, neglecting princely obligation?”

“Like what?”

“Hmm?”

Darcy upended a bottle of something labeled ‘ranch’ over her salad, and Loki grimaced; it was one of the foodstuffs that she’d yet to convince him to sample. “What were your  _ princely obligations? _ Terrorizing peasants? Waltzing with maidens fair?”

Loki scoffed. “Your words only reveal what  _ you _ would do in such a position of power, Darcy Lewis. No, we were expected to attend to the council meetings, to train at battle, to hear the pleadings of the masses… all very dull undertakings, of course.”

“Look, I  _ know _ you didn’t get the whole ‘God of Mischief’ reputation for nothing. You really expect me to believe that the ultimate trickster in Norse myth was spending all his days with a bunch of stuffy old men in council meetings? Nope, I don’t buy it.”

A small smile stole over his lips. “Well, I suppose a  _ clever _ prince might do well to master the art of illusions, and thereby avoid some of the tedium of his rank. Theoretically, of course - I would  _ never _ suggest that I would condone such a thing.”

Leaning over the table that they shared in the corner of the science lab’s small lounge, she jabbed a finger into his arm. “You’re not doing that now, are you? Skipping out on work?”

“I would  _ never, _ Darcy.”

“Hmm.” 

Loki pretended to clear his throat to hide his laughter at the  _ not-quite-convinced _ frown on the mortal’s face, carefully plucking her hand away from his person and guiding it to rest back on the smooth tabletop. If he kept her fingers in his for just a  _ moment _ longer than necessary, well, Miss Lewis certainly voiced no protest. 

Tucking in to another one of the sandwiches she’d brought up from the food court downstairs, Loki studied Darcy Lewis’s face, wondering how he might ask her about her plans for the weekend without appearing overeager. He’d allowed himself to fade into monotony for the past few days, trying to come up with some sort of goal… but he simply  _ couldn’t. _

While he knew that he wanted to invade the girl’s dreams again, some part of him was hesitant; he’d originally wanted her to know at once that he had the power to pester her so, but after his rather unexpected reaction to feeling her  _ desire, _ Loki was second-guessing himself. Would it not be better, more  _ entertaining,  _ to continue spying on her dreams while leaving no trace?

He could consider it reconnaissance, could he not? Darcy was hardly a certain ally - it would only be  _ wise _ of him to gather information about her using any methods available to him. And then, once he knew every crevice of her mind… well,  _ then _ he could reveal his hand.

“We have the thing tonight, you know. Mischief, are you  _ listening?” _

“What?”

“The Friday night group chill session, remember? Dinner with the family? Movie night?”

“I am not interested.”

“Oh, really?” Darcy crossed her arms as she leaned back in her seat, melting into the swaths of fabric that made up that shapeless jacket he found particularly vexing. “Well, it’s not an option. I’m going, so you’re going. Steve’s about to head back to D.C., and I wanna see him before he leaves.”

Irritation flickered in his chest, but he did his best to mask it. “My brother will be there?”

“Yup. The whole gang, back together again. C’mon, you’ve been moping around for  _ days. _ It’ll be fun.”

“I have not been  _ moping, _ Miss Lewis.”

“Yeah, you have. Ever since the sparring thing with Tony. And you’ve been suspiciously well-behaved.” Her eyes narrowed as she seized her drink from the table, and Loki winced as she made an unnecessarily-loud slurping sound through her straw.

She’d apparently discovered that he  _ hated _ it, and it had quickly become her favorite way to needle him.  _ Wretched girl. _

“Will you—” he began to snap, but Loki quickly caught himself before his composure was entirely lost. “Do you not recall what happened the last time you took me to one of these Friday gatherings?”

“Of course I do. You brushed off the fact that you killed a bunch of people, Steve got pissed, you shoved me into a wall… It was only a  _ week _ ago, dude. My memory isn’t that bad. Are you trying to say you’re planning a repeat performance?”

She resumed her slurping. Loki sighed.

“No,” he managed. “I am not  _ planning _ anything, but that does not mean that one of those—”

“Just… chill. Don’t you have fun when  _ we _ watch movies? This is just that. But with more people. Friends! We’re making friends. It’s a process.”

He was  _ sorely tempted _ to mention the fact that the only enjoyment he derived from watching films with her came from the way she tended to curl up against him, which he  _ highly _ doubted she’d be inclined to do in front of her friends and coworkers. Even Darcy Lewis wasn’t  _ that _ reckless. 

“I need no friends, mortal,” he replied, “but if I  _ do _ agree to attend tonight, then you will be mine tomorrow.”

Darcy stared at him, her straw still pressed against her lip. Loki stared right back.

“Excuse me?”

“When you forced me to socialize last week, you promised a prize if I abstained from causing chaos, if you’ll recall.”

“Which you absolutely failed at.”

Loki smiled innocently, his hands raised. “I do not deny that,  _ Darcy.  _ I do, however, expect a similar arrangement this time.”

“Just give it to me straight. What do you  _ want?” _

“You will spend Saturday with me in its entirety. No interruptions. My own little lackey.” He grinned, then, sitting back in his own seat. “And I want more of the iced cream.”

“It’s _ ice— _ you know what, nevermind. Okay. For all  _ you _ know, I was gonna spend Saturday with you anyway.” Miss Lewis gave a casual little shrug, as if she  _ wasn’t _ making some sort of major admission, and Loki grinned.

She had no plans with the mortal Ian, then.  _ Good. _

“Don’t I get a counter-bet?” she asked. “Like, if you freak out again, don’t you owe  _ me _ something?”

“That isn’t how this works, mortal.”

Sighing, Darcy pushed back her chair, the painfully-loud scraping sound causing him to flinch slightly. “Okay, okay. Whatever. You could’ve just asked me on a date, you know.”

And with that, she strolled out of the room, leaving a terribly perplexed God of Lies in her wake.

 

* * *

 

He put a  _ slight _ amount of effort into helping Jane Foster and Bruce Banner that afternoon, so oddly-excited was his mood. Loki had a  _ plan. _

If the girl was pleased with him tonight, then she could likely be persuaded to come into his room after the gathering in Tony Stark’s penthouse. Were she to find herself on his couch, Loki had no doubt that little Darcy Lewis would fall asleep at his side once again, which would allow him to explore her slumbering mind from a  _ much _ more pleasing vantage point. 

And, no matter how embarrassed she might pretend to be when she awoke, she had already agreed to stay by his side. His own little  _ captive _ mortal, bound to entertain him for the day.

Still, he knew that he’d have to be careful; while Stark had not appeared for anymore unexpected heart-to-hearts or weapons training sessions, Loki had no doubt that he was being kept under careful watch. If Stark was watching, then S.H.I.E.L.D was certainly watching, as well. Perhaps he should start altering the hallway camera footage when Darcy came to him.

It occured to Loki, as he stood in his shower that evening, that he was spending far too much of his time and effort playing with a mortal woman. Really, though, what else was he to do?

He was  _ tired. _

Eventually, yes, he would free himself of Midgard, and  _ eventually _ he would…

Well, he wasn’t entirely certain what would come next.

And  _ that, _ Loki told himself, was reason enough to waste a bit of time making mischief with Darcy Lewis, ignoring his ambitions and his many enemies and the vengeance he was owed. He had time; he would sort all the rest out, eventually.

 

* * *

 

“I gotta admit, Mischief… I’m _ impressed.” _

“Are you?” Loki leaned against the wall beside his doorway, a lazy smirk on his face. “I cannot imagine why you’d expect anything less.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I mean, it would’ve been nice if you’d managed to actually  _ converse _ with anyone, but I guess not breaking any limbs is a good start. We’ll consider it a work in progress.”

“So, Darcy Lewis, your Saturday is mine. Correct?”

Though she feigned a look of irritation, he was certain he saw her bite back a laugh, and when she replied, it was with a terrible imitation of his voice. “Correct.”

“Wonderful. In that case,” he said, gesturing towards the door, “let us retire for the evening.”

The slight widening of her eyes was comical, framed perfectly by her wide-rimmed glasses. “What?”

“What time is it, Darcy Lewis?” Loki asked sweetly, reaching out to pluck her ID badge from her hand and press it against the panel to open his door - he had no desire to linger in the hallway any longer.

She pulled her phone from her pocket, frowning at it. “Twelve-fourteen.”

“Precisely. The day has begun, and per your agreement, you are now mine. Come inside.”

And though she muttered something under her breath about  _ ‘stupid gods taking everything literally,’ _ she marched into his room, Loki following after her with a grin.

Darcy threw herself down on the couch, clearly pouting. “It’s been a long week,” she said, “and I’m tired. If you think I’m gonna stay up all night watching more movies with you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I’m quite sure  _ I _ could keep you awake, Darcy.”

She turned slightly pink at his wink, and Loki snickered as he made his way to the kitchen, rummaging around in the pantry. 

“What are you doing back there, Loki?”

“I am making the popped corn,” he announced, waving the box in her general direction. “And you  _ will _ be watching a film with me, Miss Lewis, as you’ve sworn to do as I wish for the day.”

_ “The popped… _ it’s  _ popcorn,  _ you loon.  _ Pop _ corn and  _ ice _ cream. I can’t tell if you’re doing that unintentionally or not anymore.”

“Popcorn, then.”

“Here,” she grumbled as she seemingly forced herself up off of the couch. “Lemme help you. It’s ridiculously easy to burn, and I don’t wanna smell that for the next twenty-four hours.”

Loki allowed her to take over, though he hovered close behind her as she poked buttons on the microwave-device. She stifled a yawn, and he was bold enough to risk a hand on the small of her back. “Go lie down, mortal, if you must. I think I can manage.”

She didn’t turn; in fact, she did not move at all, and he could  _ feel _ how tense she was. She  _ also _ did not brush his hand away. “I thought you wanted me to be your lackey for the day,” she said, forcing a casual tone. “Isn’t making you midnight snacks pretty typical lackey stuff?”

It had been a very long time since he’d tried to be seductive, and Loki was surprised to note how  _ easily _ the words came, how  _ genuine _ he sounded. His hand slipped to her waist. “I only want you here with me, Darcy. Your company pleases me.”

Without warning, she reached up and slammed one of the buttons on the microwave, and the door popped open, nearly missing his head. Loki stepped back in surprise, and the conniving little  _ wench _ took the opportunity to snatch the bag from inside and flee from his grasp.

“It was about to start burning,” she squeaked, and though she did not turn back to him as she rushed towards the couch, he could perfectly picture the scarlet flush on her cheeks.

Loki was slightly bemused; when he put his mind to it, such things usually only took a few soft words, a gentle touch or two… particularly when the woman in question was already  _ drawn _ to him, as he knew Darcy was. Perhaps she’d yet to accept the truth of her dreams.

_ No matter, _ he decided. He’d always been a master of the hunt.

Darcy was scrolling through the television schedule when he hopped over the back of the couch to take his place by her side, and she jumped. “God, don’t startle me like that! You’re lucky I didn’t spill this all over your carpet.”

“Select a film for me,” he said, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “Something terrifying.”

“No way,” she whined, turning to him with a pleading look. “I don’t want to have creepy dreams all weekend. Can’t we watch a rom-com or something?”

Loki’s smile was sharp. “Did I protest, Miss Lewis, during any of the films selected by you and Stark this evening?”

She sighed. “No. I’ll see if I can find  _ The Shining. _ It’s a classic, at least.”

“Wonderful.” The lights went out with a flick of his fingers, and he didn’t even bother to suppress his smirk as she burrowed into his side.  _ So predictable. _

Well, he supposed he had to admit that she  _ was _ able to throw him off his game from time to time… but the closer he got to her, the more precisely he’d be able to manipulate her. After all, how unpredictable could a mortal - even a delightfully entertaining mortal like Darcy - really  _ be? _

 

* * *

 

The film was hardly as terrifying as she’d seemed to think, and Loki was on the edge of dozing off before it had even managed to reach its climax.

_ ‘Was’ _ being the operative word - he was rudely startled into wakefulness as Darcy reared up from her place at his side, brandishing the remote like a mace. “Here’s Johnny!” she roared, and then she burst into giggles at his horrified expression. 

“Oh, man, Mischief, your  _ face.  _ This totally makes up for the freaky twin dreams I’m gonna have tonight.”

Irritated, Loki wrapped his arm more firmly around her shoulders and pulled her back to his side;  _ apparently _ such familiarity was permitted when they were on the couch.  _ Mortals and their bizarre rationales…  _ “I thought you’d claimed exhaustion,” he said. “But now I find you bellowing at me in the middle of the night, so I can only assume that you were attempting to mislead me.”

_ “You’re _ the one making me stay and watch stuff. Like hell am I gonna let  _ you _ fall asleep first.”

“Why don’t  _ you _ fall asleep then, Darcy?” He lazily teased a strand of her hair that rested near his fingers, and while he caught her biting her lip, she didn’t attempt to flee. “You are so,  _ so _ tired. Aren’t you? Sleep calls to you.”

Twisting under the weight of his arm, she blinked up at him. “Are… are you putting a spell on me?”

Their faces were terribly close, and Loki couldn’t help but recall her dream, the way she’d looked at him as he’d held her by her collar - fearful, yes, but also something  _ else. _ His voice felt slightly rough. “No,” he replied. “Should I?”

Another bite of her lip and a shake of her head, and Darcy leaned back into his shoulder, her eyes glued to the screen. “I don’t think you have to,” she murmured, so quiet that a mortal man likely wouldn’t have been able to make it out.

But Loki was not a mortal man, and he felt something constrict in his chest.  _ Confusion, _ he decided. The little wench was  _ confusing _ and  _ vexing, _ and that was surely what was causing him to feel so tense.

He should ask her what she meant by that. 

He decided against it.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly four o’clock in the morning when Loki woke next, Darcy Lewis fully sprawled across his lap. She must’ve decided at some point that she deserved the entire length of the couch, and he glared down at her sourly, for his own position was rather uncomfortable. 

But tonight wasn’t about being comfortable, was it? No, it was about performing reconnaissance in her mind, delving deeper into her feelings so that he could better predict her behaviors. He’d survive the discomfort.

A gentle hand on her forehead and a slight push of power, and Loki was in her dreams. They were chaotic and whirling, and he had to give another slight tap for them to smooth into anything comprehensible. 

_ And there he was. _

She was running through a maze, tonight, and Loki was hot on her heels. Darcy was truly afraid, this time, and he felt a pang of regret; he  _ had _ taunted her about how easily he’d be able to run her down, hadn’t he? Fortunately, as he was now steering the dream, he could make of it what he wished.

Her luck ran out rather quickly, and Darcy spun on her heels as she realized that she’d led him directly into a dead end, trapping herself. She held up her hands, and Loki was slightly disturbed to find that she was  _ crying. _

“Please, don’t,” she said. “I don’t belong here. This isn’t my world.”

Glancing around, Loki found that she was  _ right. _ While the dark stone walls surrounding them could’ve belonged anywhere, the sky above was certainly not the sky that surrounded Midgard.

She wrapped her arms around her frame and trembled as he stalked towards her, ash swirling around his boots. He looked to the stars again, frowning in concentration.

_ Svartalfheim. _

_ But how? _

The girl stayed frozen in place as he reached out to her, capturing that same strand of hair between his fingers. “Why are you afraid, Darcy?”

He watched as the confusion crossed her face, recognition lighting up in her eyes, though she still seemed wary of him. “I don’t know where I am,” she said. Goosebumps pebbled across her bare arms, and for a moment, Loki was distracted, wondering why she hadn’t managed to dream up her jacket. “Where am I?”

Loki shook his head; if she didn’t know, he had no intention of telling her; it would likely start a panic. “How did you find this place?” Darcy simply stared at him, and he placed a firm hand on her shoulder, leaning down to face her on a more even level.  _ “How,  _ Darcy?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, they were filled with concern. Loki felt dread prickle at the back of his neck as she turned and looked up at the stars above, then back down at him. “Loki? What happened to you?”

Following her gaze, Loki found that his chest was covered in blood, crimson spattering the ash beneath them. While his appearance wasn’t unduly concerning - he  _ knew _ that it was only a dream, after all - he was rather shocked that it seemed Darcy had manage to wrest control of things back from him. 

This was not going according to plan.

“You  _ know _ what happened,” he said gently. “You were told about this, all of it. It happened in the past. You weren't there. You aren’t  _ here.” _

Darcy reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, frowning in concentration. “Yes,” she said, slightly frustrated, “we  _ are.” _

Loki left her dream quickly, a strange feeling of dread in his heart. The mortal was still spread across him, her face giving no indication of the darkness in her dreams. “Darcy,” he said, jostling her. “Darcy, wake up.”

Her eyes cracked open, and she grunted in annoyance. “Loki?”

She didn’t seem to remember where she’d been in her dreams, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved. “I am uncomfortable,” he said. “I’m going to move you.”

“Hmm.” 

Her eyes drifted closed, and Loki managed to shift her legs enough to escape from beneath her, stretching out on the couch behind her. He couldn’t wait to see what she had to say about  _ that _ in the morning. 

As he listened to her breathing steady as she fell back into a deep sleep, one pressing question drowned out everything else:  _ How had Darcy Lewis managed to dream up the stars of a world she’d never seen? _

 

* * *

 

_ Snoring. _ She was snoring.  _ How delightful, _ Loki thought, wrinkling his nose. Perhaps he could find a charm to cure that; he certainly didn’t intend to endure it every morning.

Norns, what was he thinking?  _ Every morning? _ Had he gone  _ mad? _ Why would he ever wish to wake up beside _ Darcy Lewis  _ every morning?

_ Well, _ some part of him argued,  _ consider the feel of her.  _ And that was true - he did quite enjoy the warmth and the softness of having another body pressed up against him, though he was loathe to admit it, even to himself. 

The blanket was impossibly tangled around them, and as they’d both slept in their day-clothes, Loki was beginning to overheat; while large, the couch paled in comparison to the size of an actual bed, and Darcy had essentially trapped him against the cushions during the night. He felt as if he were being roasted alive.

“Darcy,” he mumbled against her ear. “Mortal,  _ wake up.” _

She stirred slightly, but her eyes remained firmly closed. “You suck.”

The whispered insult took him aback, and Loki glared at her peaceful face. “Let me up, girl, or I will carry you into the shower with me.”

Muttering something unintelligible, Darcy rolled away from him - or  _ attempted _ to, at least, because the blanket and Loki’s quick reflexes caught her, saving her from an ungainly tumble to the floor. 

She did finally open her eyes, and her sleepy gaze was slightly accusing. “What?”

“You have me trapped.”

“Move me, then.”

_ Norns above… _

He shoved her off of the couch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STOP WATCHING CREEPY THINGS BEFORE BED, LOKI


	11. PSLs & Pajamas

Darcy Lewis stared up at him from her blanket-cocoon, cheeks coloring with outrage. “Why did you _do_ that?” she cried.

“You said to move you,” Loki replied breezily, stepping over her. “I moved you. If you take issue with that, you may feel free to confront me in the shower.”

 _“Loki,_ you—”

He closed his bedroom door behind him, smirking slightly. It would be worth hearing her rant, if only she had the nerve to actually follow him into his bath. Doubtful that she would, but he could always hope.

His shower was a much-needed thing; though it had only been a dream, Loki could almost _feel_ the grit of Svartalfheim ash on his skin, and he was eager to be rid of the sensation. That brought to mind another concern - how had Svartalfheim managed to appear in Darcy Lewis’s dreams?

While he was certain that she’d heard more than her fair share of tales about the Dark World from both Jane Foster and Thor, he sincerely doubted that they’d bothered mapping out the constellations for her. Dr. Foster had been so deeply possessed by the Aether that he doubted she’d had a clear enough mind to take any notice of them herself, and Thor had more _pressing_ matters on his mind.

_Which leaves… me._

Loki frowned, turning his face upward into the spray of the water. But… was even _his_ memory of Svartalfheim that perfectly-clear? He’d _recognized_ it, certainly, but would he have been able to recreate the sky that he’d almost died beneath so perfectly that even a mortal might pull it from his mind?

It was puzzling.

But today was not for _worrying_ \- today was to be spent entertaining himself with Darcy Lewis. Assuming she hadn’t run off in a fit of temper - and he assumed that she hadn’t, as she would consider it a retreat - then he’d need to know how to deal with her once he emerged from his bath. They would eat breakfast, perhaps, and then he might take her to train at combat…

_What then?_

He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Perhaps he could twist Stark’s arm, convince him to allow them to leave the Tower? It was soon, he knew - none of them could be reasonably expected to trust him after only a week - but he craved fresh air and sunlight.

Loki strolled into the main room with only a towel wrapped around his waist, simply due to his curiosity to see how Miss Lewis might react. She did not disappoint - her face turned scarlet, and when she hurled a pillow at him with an impressive amount of force, he burst into laughter.

“Careful,” he warned. “You do not want me to lose my hold on this, do you? Or perhaps that is your aim. In that case, Darcy, you have only to ask.”

“Shut up, Loki. _God._ And put on some pants, while you’re at it.”

“Do you need to dress for the day? Your clothing is rather mussed.”

“Well, yeah,” she groused. “That’s what happens when a demanding prince _insists_ that you sleep on his couch in the clothes you wore all day...”

“To be fair, _I_ did not insist upon the clothes—”

“Knock it off. And yes, I _do_ need to shower and change. Am I allowed to leave the royal chambers?”

Her sarcasm should’ve bothered him, but it didn’t; it was just a defense, he knew, to hide her bashfulness, and so he took it as flattery rather than disrespect. “You may,” Loki replied with a slight mocking bow, “but I intend to accompany you. Perhaps you would prefer to wait to take your shower, however; I intend to go directly to the training room once you are dressed in something more comfortable.”

Darcy scowled. “Oh, great. _Just_ how I want to start my morning.”

“Best to get it over with early, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

Loki sat on the small couch in Darcy’s cramped little chambers, listening to the oddly-upbeat music she was playing in her bedroom as she freshened up. He supposed she was trying to forestall the inevitable.

He’d been browsing on his datapad for around ten minutes when he finally decided to give in and ask - nay, _demand_ \- Tony Stark’s assistance. It took Loki a moment or two to figure out how to work the damned thing, and his annoyance spiked when he found that Stark had labeled himself as _‘The Boss’_ on his list of contacts.

Rolling his eyes, he pressed the photograph of the man’s face with a bit more force than was truly necessary, smiling with malevolent delight as Stark appeared on the screen, clearly still in bed. “Good morning, _Anthony.”_

 _“What the hell—”_ Stark rubbed his eyes, squinting as he seemed to slowly take in Loki’s surroundings. “You aren’t in your room.”

“No.”

Stark’s sigh rattled the speakers. _“Great._ What do you want?”

“I want to go outside, as per our agreement. Today.”

“Our _agreement?_ I said I’d see what I could _do_ \- I didn’t guarantee I’d set you loose on the city within the week.”

“I was under the impression that _Tony Stark_ could do _anything._ Are you really going to let Director Fury tie your hands?”

“Oh, _nice try,_ Blitzen. The classic ‘turn the parents against each other’ move. And playing to my ego, too. Smart.”

Loki smiled. “Is it going to work?”

The mortal groaned and sat up, his hair tousled beyond belief. He looked rather like he’d fallen asleep in the middle of a windstorm. What was it he’d said? _‘No rest for the wicked?’_ It appeared that he’d spoken from experience.

“It might. I _do_ like getting under Fury’s skin - you’ve got me pegged there. There are conditions, though. You and I both know that you sauntering out of here with no supervision isn’t gonna happen.”

A flare of excitement ran through him; Loki had not expected such an easy acquiescence, and while some part of him remained naturally suspicious, another part of him felt almost… _happy._

“Is my liason not supervision enough?”

“No. Big Brother is going with you, or you aren’t going at all. And me. I’m going. Tragically, S.H.I.E.L.D. seems to think you’re somehow _my_ personal responsibility.”

It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than he’d anticipated - at least he wouldn’t be cuffed and chained. “Any other conditions, Stark?”

“Well, yeah. I’m pretty booked up this week, but next weekend, you and me are working on our little defense project, and I expect you to show up with a smile on your face. I _also_ expect you to actually contribute something in the lab this week; I’m not paying you to sit around and look pretty. Understood?”

“I accept.”

“Good. I’ll find you in a couple of hours, I guess. Might as well try to get some work done, now that I’ve been so rudely awakened.”

The communication ended abruptly, and Loki stared at the blank screen for a moment, feeling almost _perplexed._ He was no longer certain how to think of Tony Stark. Was the man simply a bigger fool than he’d believed? Was this yet another test?

“What’s happening in a couple of hours?”

Loki looked over his shoulder to where Darcy Lewis stood in her bedroom doorway, pulling her hair back. The shorts that she’d chosen to wear while they exercised were _quite_ short, and he found himself woefully distracted.

“Mischief?”

His eyes snapped to her face at once. There _had_ to be something wrong with him; this fixation on a mortal woman - or any woman, for that matter - was _highly_ unlike him. It simply wouldn’t do.

“We are going outside,” he replied, dropping the datapad carelessly onto the couch.

“Really? How did you manage to swing _that?”_

“Now, Darcy, have you forgotten that I am a valuable member of this little _team?_ Surely I should be afforded some degree of freedom.”

“Are you that valuable, though? You mostly just seem to complain and glare at people.”

Loki scoffed as he sauntered to her doorway, impatient. “I am certainly valuable to you, if no one else,” he said. “Without me, Miss Lewis, you would not have this job. Imagine how dull your life would be in my absence.”

 

* * *

 

He found that Darcy Lewis was no more nimble than before, and when she’d ended up pinned to the cushioned floor beneath him, Loki had finally decided that it might be most prudent to suspend _that_ particular phase of her training until he managed to get ahold of himself. Norns forbid she noticed the effect she had on him… though, as he watched her on the treadmill, he couldn’t help but feel proud that he seemed to have a similar effect on her.

He found her occasional bouts of bashfulness incredibly endearing - a bashful Darcy Lewis was a rare thing, and as far as he knew, it was not an attitude that many were lucky enough to witness.

No, it seemed that her bashfulness was reserved for him. He was _special._

She wouldn’t make eye contact with him now, even as he reached across to dial up her speed. Loki waited a few moments, and then did it again. Darcy finally relented enough to glare at him out of the corner of her eye, and after a moment or two of what even Loki could begrudgingly admit was a valiant effort, she slammed her palm down on the button that made the machine grind to a halt.

“Are you,” she wheezed, “trying to kill me? Because there are a lot of ways I’d rather die than on a freaking treadmill.”

“I am simply testing your limits, driving you to be the best version of yourself. It is very benevolent of me, wouldn’t you say?”

_“No.”_

“Hmm. You should be more appreciative, Miss Lewis. It’s all for the best.”

Darcy grunted in irritation, brushing damp strands of her hair from her forehead. “You know what you’re doing this afternoon, Lokes? You’re buying me a latte. You _owe_ me a latte.”

“Alright,” he replied, trying to keep a disapproving look on his face at the latest of her ridiculous nicknames, but failing tremendously. “I suppose I did promise, and I _am_ a man of my word.”

 

* * *

 

Loki stood in the lobby of Stark Tower in his hooded sweatshirt, feeling terribly out-of-place and more than a little irritated. Stark had told them to meet him downstairs at noon; it was now twelve-ten. He had no doubt that the delay was intentional. It was _exactly_ the kind of subtle annoyance that Loki himself liked to cause.

Apparently Darcy did not mind the wait. She stood by the little information desk, chatting with the old man who’d spoken to him as if he’d known him. Loki did not particularly care for over-familiar mortals, and so he kept his distance. Besides, his current location offered him a far better vantage point, on the off-chance that something were to suddenly go awry.

Had he always been so guarded, so ready for a fight? Truthfully, Loki could not remember.

When Stark finally appeared, Thor was with him, attired in similar Midgardian clothing, his hair pulled back. If they were trying to disguise him, Loki thought that they were doing a very poor job of it. But then, perhaps the mortals _enjoyed_ seeing their otherworldly savior walk among them, perhaps it made them feel more _secure._ If they weren’t trying to hide _their_ identities, then how did they expect to hide his? There had to be footage from his previous escapades floating about somewhere on their internet.

Perhaps he’d ask Darcy if she’d seen any; she seemed to spend quite a bit of time on her phone, after all.

Darcy popped up at his elbow, as if she’d been reading his thoughts. “You guys are gonna attract attention,” she said. “I’m basically going out with two alien supermodels and a billionaire.” She grinned up at him. _“But why male models?”_

Loki stared at her.

“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll admit that I had no reason to expect that you’d seen _Zoolander,_ but I still thought it was a pretty good reference.”

“I am more concerned about attracting attention, Miss Lewis. That will prove problematic, will it not?”

“Well, maybe not.” She reached up to gather his hair at the nape of his neck, and Loki leaned without thinking, too prideful to jerk away once he realized that he’d done such a thing in front of his brother, in front of _Stark…_

Better to let them imagine that he’d ordered her to do it.

“Just smile,” Darcy continued, “and I’m _sure_ no one will recognize you.”

Loki scowled.

He managed to avoid any idle chatter, though he did allow a rather unenthusiastic, _“Hello, Brother,”_ when Thor clapped him on the shoulder; Thor was the most likely to defend him, due to his lingering sense of familial loyalty. It was only sensible that Loki attempt to maintain some semblance of camaraderie, he supposed.

And, truth be told, there _might’ve_ even been a part of him - a tiny, truly _despicable_ part - that missed having a brother.

Hands shoved into his pockets, he followed behind as they wove through the crowds of mortals streaming along the pathways. The air was crisp, but the sudden rush of noise and lights and smells and _bodies_ was almost a bit overwhelming, and Loki felt his chest tighten.

A hand grasped his elbow only a moment later. Darcy had taken a firm hold of him, and though his first instinct was to pull away, he did not. After all, if his aim was to blend in, surely having a tiny mortal woman glued to his side would aid that, wouldn’t it?

There was also the small fact that she was smiling, and Loki did not particularly want to do anything to change that.

“I guess the scowling _is_ pretty useful for walking in the city,” she said. “People used to stop me all the time because I looked around so much - total giveaway that I was basically a tourist. It’s almost like painting a giant target on your head.”

“Is it?” Loki replied mildly. He could not entirely understand why she’d be so fascinated with this place; it was not, in his opinion, all that impressive. Though, when he considered the pitiful village that was Puente Antiguo… perhaps it made sense. “Asgard has far more splendor.”

“So I’ve been told, but, y’know, nobody bothers to take _Darcy_ anywhere cool and alien. I guess I need to get possessed or portaled somewhere to make that list.”

“You do not trust that I’ll take you there?”

“As a hostage, maybe.” She flipped the edge of her long, garish scarf over her shoulder, her smile unwavering. “It might even be worth it, though.”

She should not jest about such a thing, he wanted to tell her, for it very well might come true. Instead, he turned his attention forward, glaring at the back of his brother’s head. “Where are we going, Miss Lewis?”

“I’m taking you out for the quintessential modern human experience,” she said. “We’re going to Starbucks.”

 

* * *

 

Loki did not _like_ Starbucks.

It was crowded, the line was long, and the servers behind the counter looked a bit too _perky_ for his liking.

Loki _also_ did not like the fact that the payment card Stark had handed to him upon entry held the name _‘Luke Lawson.’_

“Is this _really_ the best you could come up with, Anthony?”

“Stop calling me that. And I didn’t really bother wasting much time on coming up with clever aliases, if you must know. It’s a little beneath me. Could’ve been much worse.”

“Only _you_ would complain about getting a credit card that probably has enough spending power to buy out the whole store,” Darcy said.

“To _buy_ the whole store, you mean.”

“Oh, really, Tony? Gonna just rub it in that he gets paid more than me? I should file a complaint with HR.”

“That’s fair - you do probably deserve a raise. I’ll put in a good word with the boss for you. We’re pretty close.”

Thankfully, Thor seemed just as perplexed as Loki felt about _whatever_ it was the mortals were discussing, and since he’d decided that one of his primary objectives should be to nurture _trust,_ he squared his shoulders and did the unthinkable: he spoke to his brother.

“You have been here before?” he asked.

“No,” Thor replied. “I do not walk among the mortals as often as you might think, Loki; I am easily recognized, after all that has happened since Father banished me.”

“The degree to which you bow to mortal whims continues to astound me.”

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted, sending an extremely-pointed glance at the _very_ mortal hand currently resting in the crook of Loki’s elbow.

“What the _hell_ are you two speaking?” Stark interrupted, saving them both from the argument that was sure to ensue. “Is that _Norse?”_

“That’s rude, Mischief.” Darcy removed her hand from his arm, and Loki vehemently assured himself that he did _not_ miss its presence. “Not all of us have the - what do you guys call it?”

“The All-Tongue,” Thor supplied.

“Yeah, we don’t have that.”

“Had I intended for you to be privy to our conversation, Darcy, you would’ve been.”

Stark’s brow raised. _“‘Darcy’_ now, is it?”

“That’s my name,” she replied breezily, stepping up to the counter, “don’t wear it out.”

Loki pulled the shiny little payment card out and dropped into her waiting palm, then shoved his hands back into his pockets. He did not particularly care what she purchased, and any interaction with the workers in their loud green aprons was to be avoided at all costs. Though he feigned disinterest, he made certain to watch carefully as she slid the card through the slot on the machine that - from what he could tell - kept record of the payment.

It was an intriguing system, he supposed, but Loki far preferred the weight of coin.

He could easily imagine little Darcy Lewis skipping though the markets of Asgard, gleefully spending _far_ too much of his money. Though, truthfully enough, if he _did_ manage to end up in some scenario where he was freely strolling about Asgard’s marketplaces once again, he supposed he would have more than enough gold to sustain her.

 _What a disturbing thought,_ he decided.

“I don’t get why we had to come here,” Stark griped as they made their way back outside, beverages in hand. “This stuff isn’t even as good as what I can make in the Tower, and I’m not exactly an expert barista. There’s probably twelve specialty coffee shops on this block.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Darcy said. “Besides, I want them to get the full Earth experience, and chain restaurants and Starbucks coffee are _one-hundred-percent_ required. Oh, maybe we can do _Olive Garden_ next. Isn’t there one in Times Square?”

As Stark glared, Thor happily sucked down… _whatever_ it was Darcy had ordered for him. “Don’t be so harsh, Tony - I think this is very good.”

“That’s because it’s mostly sugar. If I had one wish, it would be to have the ability to eat like you do and still look like an Australian underwear model.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t maybe want to - and I’m just throwing this out there - get rid of the chest-shrapnel?”

“Well, maybe. Valid point, Austen. But that’s just so _practical...”_

Loki finally took a sip of his drink, crinkling his nose as he did. It was oddly-spiced, and like nothing she’d ever made for him in the Tower. Perhaps he _should_ have paid more attention when she was ordering.

“Not a fan of the PSL, huh?” she quipped, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

He couldn’t remember what that was supposed to stand for, nor did he care enough to ask. “I prefer the mocha.”

“You’d probably like what Thor has, then. God, maybe all you guys _are_ sugar addicts. Something with the crazy metabolic rate? And chocolate addicts, too, from what I can tell.”

As they stopped to wait for the flow of people to move across one of the streets, there was an awkward moment where Thor half-heartedly offered his drink.

Loki ignored it, and thankfully enough, neither of the mortals seemed to notice. _Good,_ he thought. It was, ultimately, a meaningless gesture.

They weren’t _friends_ any longer.

They were barely even allies, and that was only a matter of necessity.

And they certainly, _certainly_ weren’t brothers.

 

* * *

 

The hours outside weren’t all that pleasant, really - the crowds of strange mortals made him antsy, the attempts his brother made at conversation were unwanted, and Loki found none of the sights particularly worth seeing. Still, it was good to feel the outdoors once again, even if it was the polluted, concrete outdoors of New York.

Darcy informed him that he was being a snob. He reminded _her_ that he was a Prince of Asgard.

The slightly-pleased look on his brother’s face made him _sincerely_ regret his choice of words.

If Tony Stark was surprised that his villainous charge did not start chaos in the streets, he never once showed it; in fact, Loki was somewhat disturbed by how casual the entire thing was. Were there snipers watching from the rooftops? Covert agents hidden in the crowd?

From what he could tell, the answer was _no._

The mortals continued to unsettle him.

Unfortunately, his frustrating little liaison managed to wrangle him into eating dinner with some of the others that night, a fact that Loki would continue to sulk over for the rest of the weekend. Fortunately, aside from Thor and Stark, he was only forced to endure the presence of Jane Foster and Bruce Banner.

As humans went… there could’ve been worse options.

He even managed - albeit briefly - to maintain a bit of chatter with Dr. Foster and Darcy over the myths surrounding some of Midgard’s constellations. Darcy had not been lying when she’d said that she was well-versed in her world’s mythos - in fact, Loki began to suspect that she’d been underselling herself, if anything.

The conversation lulled as they watched some television program late in the evening, and he idly wondered if she’d dream up her ancient version of _him_ once again - or, perhaps, she would instead dream of the stars. Loki’s chest tightened, then, as he suddenly remembered the stars of Svartalfheim, stars that Darcy Lewis never should’ve seen. He’d managed to distract himself from such dark thoughts for most of the day, but…

Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, Loki wondered if he should broach the subject. Would it frighten her? It might, and it likely _should._

It might be best to turn to someone else for advice, but his options were severely limited. Thor knew next to nothing of dream-weaving, despite their childhood lessons, and the mortals did not understand dreams _at all._

But several of the mortals at his disposal _did_ have some knowledge of the stars, and of that small number, only one had ever been to Svartalfheim. Loki fought the urge to groan.

He was going to have to ask _Jane Foster_ for help.

 

* * *

 

Loki wanted to kill his brother.

When he’d declared his intent to retire for the evening, Thor had jovially offered to walk with them, which Darcy, much to his irritation, had not seemed to mind in the slightest. Loki glared at her reflection in the elevator on the way to their floor, and she soundly ignored him.

For a brief moment, as she pressed her badge against the access panel of his door, Loki had foolishly hoped that she intended to waltz into his chambers, flaunting the fact that she favored him in his brother’s face.

She had not.

Perhaps she had deemed it too great of a risk to her employment, or she’d simply been too embarrassed to get caught retreating into his chambers late at night. Either way, she’d awkwardly waved and bid him goodnight, and then she’d allowed the door to slide closed.

And so Loki fumed; his temper was a fragile thing, ever since his fall from the Bifrost, since his imprisonment, since Svartalfheim… He blamed Thor, and he blamed Darcy Lewis, and most of all, he blamed _himself_ for wanting so _badly_ for her to be at his side.

Eventually, he gave in and used the datapad to compose a message to her, reminding her in no uncertain terms that she was _obliged_ to attend to him for the full twenty-four hours, and that he had no intention of allowing her to shirk her duties—

But before he had the chance - or the nerve - to send it to her, she appeared in his doorway, adorned in sleeping-clothes that were _marginally_ better than the ones he’d previously endured.

They were slightly more form-fitting, as well. Loki hoped that it was a deliberate choice on her part, but considering how _pathetic_ his desire for her already made him, he thought it best to assume otherwise.

“We’re going to get caught,” she whispered, almost as if she feared being overheard. “These sleepovers… I’ll give you tonight, since I promised I’d stick around til midnight and I _probably_ won’t feel like crawling back to bed after that, but—”

“My chambers,” Loki interrupted, “are much more _appealing,_ aren’t they, Darcy? You’ve already said as much. Consider the view.” He flicked a finger, and the lights of New York City sprawled out before them; even _he_ had to admit that it made a bit of a pretty picture, at least at night-time.

Darcy walked to the window, pressing her hands against the glass. There would be a smudge, and he should scold her for it, but he didn’t. “The view is pretty great,” she admitted. “And you make _tolerable_ company. Sometimes.”

Loki ignored the attempt to rile him, drawing up behind her. “Considering these positive attributes of my chambers, then,” he said, “the view and the company, to name but a few, perhaps you should stay more often.”

He felt foolish the moment he said it, fearing that she would see it for what it was - less of an attempt at seduction, and more of a plea for companionship. When she turned to him, eyes narrowed, Loki feared that she would accuse him of exactly the fault that now plagued him.

_Loneliness._

“Weekends,” Darcy replied after a few moments, brushing past him to take her place on the couch. “But _only_ the weekends. I guess I’ll just hope fewer people are paying attention then.”

Loki was _disgusted_ by the fact that his heart fluttered, but it did flutter, all the same. Standing stock-still by the window, he watched silently as she arranged the pillow on the couch, as she kicked at the large blanket until it adequately covered her feet. He didn’t dare suggest that they go to the _actual_ bed, understanding that the symbol of it seemed to be a point of personal pride, and he had no desire to cause her to rethink her decision

She glared over her shoulder, pointing a stern finger at him. “And _only_ because of the view.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late #TowerTuesday! <3 It's October, Pumpkin Spice Lattes are everywhere (and personally, I'm a fan)
> 
> I'm probably not going to be posting many (if any) story updates for the next couple of weeks, but feel free to stop by my Tumblr! I'm going to try to catch up on asks/comments in the meantime
> 
> Love,  
> MoA
> 
> p.s. apologies for typos, it's late and my eyes are asleep D:


	12. Pranks & Pancakes

“Mr. Laufeyson —  _ Loki, _ if you’re still comfortable with me calling you that?”

“Of course, Dr. Penn. We are all  _ friends _ here, aren’t we?” Loki replied, sneaking a glance at his little mortal sidekick, who currently sat glaring out the window. 

Darcy Lewis was quite the interesting creature. He was, terrible though it was to admit it, beginning to grow incredibly  _ fond  _ of her. He thought of her far too often - in bed at night, while working in the research laboratory, as he took his solitary meals in his rooms… it was vexing, but Loki couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. 

The fact that she seemed  _ jealous _ over him now gave him a thrill the likes of which he hadn’t felt in some time. Years.  _ Decades,  _ even. 

“Loki,” Dr. Penn continued, “today might be a little more challenging for us. I want to really talk about the time you’ve spent here on Earth.”

“Which century?” Darcy asked, turning back to the table, a paper coffee cup clutched in her hands.  _ She must be cold,  _ Loki thought absently. He’d have to do something to remedy that. 

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, are we talking about his most recent times on Earth, when Mischief was trying to take over the planet? Or like, are we talking Viking-God-days? I’m sure there were probably some crazy adventures in between, right?”

The doctor’s smile was tense. “I actually meant the recent attack on New York, Miss Lewis, and the events leading up to it.”

“So, you’re just debriefing him, basically. I’m pretty sure his story’s already in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s records, isn’t it?”

“I was hoping for a more thorough discussion, especially in light of Loki’s recent… change of heart. We’re all working towards common goals now, aren’t we? We have to trust each other.”

Darcy didn’t look convinced. Was she being  _ protective _ over him? Loki was almost  _ touched.  _

“It was a very tumultuous time in my life, Doctor,” he said. “I’m afraid that it’s all a bit of a blur.”

“You couldn’t shed some light on your motivations? Why it was that you decided to target Earth, of all places, and to recruit an army from a different part—“

“Oh, that,” Loki interrupted, a blithe smile on his face. “Your  _ Earth _ is dearly loved by my brother, and he’d given me quite a bit of grief in the previous few years.” He shrugged. “It seemed fair.”

None of the mortals in the room seemed to particularly approve of that response. 

He supposed that Thor must’ve put the idea in their heads that he wasn’t working alone when he’d made his move against Midgard.  _ How vexing.  _ That particular chapter of his life was one that he’d much prefer to keep closed, sealed, and forever locked away.

“The scepter you used was a very impressive tool,” Dr. Penn said, sliding a grainy photo across the table. In it, the Mind Gem glowed brightly, nearly as bright as the madness in Loki’s own eyes. 

He grimaced. It was not the most flattering depiction of him, he had to admit. 

“The famed  _ Glowstick of Destiny,” _ Darcy commented, dragging the photo closer. “You look scary as hell, Mischief.”

“Miss Lewis, I’m going to have to ask you to refrain—”

“I mean, like I said, all of this has already been covered. I might’ve only seen the redacted files, but I’ve still  _ seen _ them. I’ve been a  _ research _ aide, you know.”

The doctor sat up a bit straighter in her seat, and Loki leaned back and prepared to enjoy the interesting little confrontation that seemed to be brewing. “This is about Loki’s _ state of mind, _ Miss Lewis, and I’d ask you to respect our time here by making fewer interruptions. If you continue, I’ll have to ask that you’re removed from these sessions.”

“Oh, I know you’re just doing your job.  _ My _ job happens to be looking after this idiot, though, so actually, I  _ do _ get to ask questions.”

_ Shockingly confrontational, _ Loki thought. The mystery of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agenda seemed to be driving everyone in the Tower a little mad. It was somewhat vexing to have Darcy demonstrate her defensiveness towards him so openly, but it was also highly flattering, and some weak part of him revelled in the attention.

“You don’t  _ actually _ have the clearance to be here in the first place.” The doctor’s light tone was beginning to sound a bit strained. “Mr. Stark might give you leeway in how you operate within your role here in his organization, but  _ this _ is a matter of international security.”

“Sorry, I thought the story was that you were here to  _ help _ him. That’s what Thor was told, right?”

Loki was a bit taken aback, and his temper found him almost immediately. So, Thor thought that the mortals could  _ fix _ him, did he? And he was actually foolish enough to trust them, to step aside and ask no questions as they attempted to pry all of Loki’s secrets from his mind…

“Loki, I’m sorry, but if you aren’t willing to cooperate, then—”

“I’m perfectly willing, Doctor,” he said, brushing his knee against Darcy’s under the table. “Everything is fine, Miss Lewis. I assure you, I’m entirely capable of handling myself.” A charming smile firmly in place, he plucked the photo from the table, pretending to examine it. “Ask your questions.”

 

* * *

 

“You should really learn to rein in your emotions, Darcy,” Loki told her later, hovering over her shoulder in the elevator. “I cannot begin to imagine why you acted that way in front of the lovely Dr. Penn, but it seemed rather out-of-character.”

“Because it’s all fake!” she cried, waving her hand in the air. “I can’t stand how phoney she is, and it’s so ridiculous that she tries to take this  _ therapy _ angle when she’s just grilling you for answers about the invasion. You could use  _ actual _ therapy. And they clearly want to know if your magic was involved in making all of that freaky mind-control stuff work, which makes me  _ worried.” _

“Worried?”

“Yeah, like Dr. McFlirt’s whole routine isn’t super suspicious. What if they’re trying to like… weaponize you, or something?”

Loki snorted. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“I mean, look what they did to Steve—”

“A pitiful mortal man. _ I _ cannot be so easily used.”

“Whatever. You were getting shifty, too - don’t act like you weren’t.”

“Yet still, I retained my impeccable charm.” At his smile, Darcy rolled her eyes and took off down the hallway to his chambers, leaving Loki no choice but to follow after her; luckily, her short strides made it laughably simple for him to overtake her. “I’m being serious, Darcy,” he said. “While your concern is undoubtedly flattering, it will only cause us trouble. You don’t want them to remove you from your post, do you?”

“They can’t—”

“They  _ can,” _ he said. “It is surprising that they’ve allowed you so much freedom in your handling of me, as it is.”

Darcy leaned against his doorframe, giving him a strange look. “Are you… are you actually  _ worried _ about me, Mischief?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He thought he saw her smile as she opened the door. “Yeah, ‘cause  _ I’m _ the ridiculous one.”

“Of course you are. Would you like to come in, Miss Lewis?”

Darcy’s smile faltered, and his own nearly slipped, as well. “I can’t,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve got plans, and besides that, we said it would only be a weekend thing, remember?”

“It’s very nearly the weekend, isn’t it? Besides, the night is still young - I was not necessarily implying that I wanted you to  _ stay—” _

“It’s only Thursday,” Darcy interrupted, “but nice try. You need anything? I know you’ve got that spaghetti left over from lunch, but…” She frowned up at him. “What’s wrong?”

_ Oh, dear. _ He hadn’t been caught  _ admiring _ her, had he? Softening in her presence as she fussed over his wellbeing, pretty and warm and  _ inviting… _

He was clearly going mad.

Or,  _ perhaps _ it would be more accurate to say that he was going mad in a way that he’d never quite experienced before. Loki did not approve. “It is nothing,” he replied. “I am only tired, and if you aren’t going to join me, mortal, then you’d best be off.”

“Oh.”

Loki watched her for a moment, confused -  _ she’d _ been the one to say that she had to leave, after all. Yet still she lingered, hesitant. It caused him a great deal of stress, considering how  _ badly _ he wanted her to change her mind about staying, but knowing that he  _ shouldn’t.  _

“You can text me if you need anything,” she said. “So… ‘night, Lokes.” She flashed him an awkward smile, and then the door slid shut in his face.

_ What is the matter with me? _ he wondered, shaking his head as he made his way to the small kitchen, digging in his refrigerator for something to eat. He hadn’t gone all starry-eyed for a girl since he’d been a boy,  _ centuries _ ago… He pulled out a clear container of  _ Darcy Lewis’s Famous Spaghetti,  _ as she’d called it, glaring at it, as if the dish itself were somehow responsible for the fact that he wished its creator was there with him.

_ Damn her. _

Perhaps it was the sheer  _ mundaneness _ of the past week that had lulled him into such an odd state of mind. In fact, Loki really hadn’t felt like himself lately; he’d been acting practically  _ agreeable,  _ even going so far as to hold civil conversation with Bruce Banner in the laboratory over what the mortals called ‘vita radiation.’ If he was being entirely truthful, he’d almost enjoyed the peacefulness - he was still every bit as exhausted as he’d been when he arrived at Stark Tower nearly a month prior, and save for the nights that that his little human sidekick deigned to stay with him, his sleep offered very little respite.

And so, if he’d lost some of his bite during the waking hours, was there really any harm to it? Loki was certain that he’d get his edge back, eventually. He was a powerful, immortal  _ monster,  _ after all. This latest bout of weakness couldn’t last forever, surely.

As he ate his dinner, he was disturbed to realize that the subject of Darcy Lewis’s  _ plans _ had him thoroughly preoccupied. It couldn’t possibly be that she was on another one of those ‘dates’ with her lackey… could it? He realized that he’d bent the fork in his hand, and he sighed, straightening the metal with his thumb. 

He should be plotting. He should be deciding how he’d make his escape, and what he’d do  _ after _ he made his escape, and what his ultimate goal was to be, now that his life had turned into such a horrid mess… but he couldn’t. All he could think of was  _ her. _

Should he message her?

Loki stared at his datapad, indecisive. The photograph by her contact information was one she’d somehow convinced Dr. Foster to take, Loki sitting in front of one of their computers with Darcy leaning over his shoulder; he wasn’t  _ smiling _ in it, of course, but  _ she _ was, and he could admit - at least to himself - that he almost found it pleasing. She had a very charming smile.

No, he wouldn’t message her. It would be beneath him; he was hardly going to lower himself to begging for a mortal woman’s attentions. He wasn’t  _ that _ desperate - not yet.

Instead, Loki decided, he’d just have to pay little Miss Lewis a visit that night in her dreams.

 

* * *

 

He actually took himself to bed that night, though he saw very little point to it. It didn’t seem to help him sleep; if anything, it was  _ more _ difficult to sleep in the bed than it was on the couch. Still, Loki felt rather ridiculous curling up on the couch and imagining some  _ human _ there beside him, and he was resolved to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

It was long after midnight before he wove the spell that would guide his mind to her dreams, but he’d wanted to be certain that she’d be sleeping. He wondered, once again, how it was that she’d spent her evening, and with  _ whom.  _ Loki glared at the ceiling. This brooding was going to be the death of him - best just to  _ act. _

When he opened his eyes, then, it was startling that he found himself in the shining elevator that he’d spent so many small moments in with Darcy; he’d been expecting something more surreal, and perhaps even hoping for a resurgence of her  _ exciting _ little Viking-peasant dreams.

As he met her gaze in the reflection, however, he realized that the  _ excitement _ was very much a present, palpable thing, laced - as it had been before - with apprehension. The sensation of it was incredibly overwhelming, and it took him another moment to realize that they weren’t moving.

Darcy kept her eyes fixed on their reflections, tense. “Did  _ you _ break the elevator, Mischief,” she finally asked, her voice feigning flippancy, “or should I be worried?”

He was standing so  _ close _ to her, close enough that she should’ve turned and pushed him, or stepped away. She didn’t. “You would not be worried if I am the one who’s trapped us here?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder, watching the polished metal for her reaction.

“Of course not. Why would I be? What are  _ you _ going to do?”

_ A challenge. _ Loki grinned. “Whatever I  _ want,”  _ he said, and then he gave her a light push, earning him an outraged gasp as she threw up her hands to catch herself against the perfectly-polished elevator doors. He was hot on her heels, pressing behind her, and as he slipped one of his hands around her waist, she dropped her hands and tried to twist away.

“Look, Loki,” she whispered, “this isn’t the  _ place _ for this, you’re going to get us in trouble—”

Heat sped through him;  _ so, _ in this dream of hers, it wasn’t his attentions that were  _ objectionable,  _ but merely that she feared that they’d be overseen. “Put your hands back on the wall, Miss Lewis.” She opened her mouth to protest, glaring at his reflection, and Loki smiled.  _ “Now.” _

“But—”

“We won’t be overseen, Darcy,” he whispered into her ear, hoping to reassure her; he didn’t want her to try to push her dreams in a different direction in her confusion, or to risk it becoming another nightmare. “I’ve taken care of it.”

_ “Oh,” _ she breathed, seeming to accept that easily enough as he bunched up her sweater and slipped his hands beneath it, delighted at the feel of her soft, warm skin. “But, Loki—”

“Are you going to do as I said?”

The fact that she splayed her fingers back against the wall with no further prompting thrilled him to his core. She really was terribly  _ pliant _ in her dreams, wasn’t she? Loki smiled, smugly satisfied, craning down to press a kiss to the shell of her ear. It did not really matter what she’d been doing that evening, then, did it? In the night, her dreams turned only to  _ him. _

He decided that he might as well be bold - she certainly seemed receptive, and he couldn’t imagine when he’d get another chance as tempting as this one. Deft fingers working quickly, he unfastened the button of her tight jeans, dragging down the zipper. Loki’s heart was pounding; Darcy’s head fell back against his chest, her breath quickening.

“You’re sure you broke the cameras?” she asked, and he felt her anxiety twist and spike. Perhaps the silly creature should have dreamed of him menacing her in a more  _ private _ location, if she was truly so concerned about being caught.

“No one can see us,” Loki reassured her. 

“But can they  _ hear _ us?”

_ What a delightful notion, _ he thought. “Of course they can; I suppose you’ll just have to try to say silent. Won’t you, _ Darcy?” _

And then he dared to bend and kiss her neck, and she let out a very conflicted sort of groan, and the next thing he knew, Loki was staring up at his own ceiling, caught somewhere between delight and explosive frustration.

She’d woken herself and thrown him out,  _ again. _

Was he truly such a terrible prospect, that she couldn’t even allow herself to fully  _ imagine _ being with him? The thought stung, a much sharper pain than it had any right to be. After all, what more could the little wretch possibly  _ want _ from him? He’d been cooperative - Norns help him, he’d even been practically  _ friendly _ with Banner and Foster… was that not enough for her?

Was she simply toying with him?

As his doubts grew, so did his temper. It hurt more, somehow, to think that she’d rejected him within her own imagination; at least during the day, he could reassure himself that it was only external demands keeping her from acting on her very  _ obvious _ attraction to him.

Loki would not stand for it. He had no choice but to show his hand.

Or, to be more accurate, to show  _ her _ hands. Smiling to himself, Loki schemed.

 

* * *

 

When she came to retrieve him in the morning, Loki was still in a rather foul mood, though it was now tempered by a certain sort of eagerness; he did enjoy causing mischief, after all, and having a target for all of his frustrations just made things so much  _ simpler. _

He’d had to re-bandage his wound again, and that hadn’t helped things in the slightest; he found it shocking that it still hadn’t healed, and he continued to assure himself that it was simply because he’d exhausted so much of his energy simply surviving the incident. Still… if his mother had still been alive—

_ Well, _ he told himself,  _ Queen Frigga isn’t alive, so you’ll just have to deal with it yourself, won’t you? _

“Are you feeling okay?” Darcy asked. “I mean, you look a little rough. Have you been sleeping?”

Loki shrugged, and while she seemed a little irritated by his lack of a response, she didn’t question him further.

He waited until the elevator doors closed to lean over her shoulder and whisper, “And how did  _ you _ sleep last night, Miss Lewis?”

Her eyes widened in shock as she spied the smudged handprints marring the polished shine of the elevator door. “You—” she sputtered, turning on him at once, “You…  _ dick!  _ What did you do to my head?”

His smile was thin. “I did nothing,” he replied, “I merely took a peek.”

“You had absolutely no right—” she began, jabbing a finger against his chest.

“Now, now, Darcy -  _ you _ are the one who’s been using  _ my _ image to keep yourself company at night, aren’t you? What gave  _ you _ the right?”

Heat bloomed across her cheeks. “I can’t exactly  _ control _ my nightmares!”

Loki snuck a glance at the security camera; she seemed to have entirely forgotten that it was there. He didn’t bother moving her hand away from his chest. “A pretty excuse,” he said. “Though, they weren’t exactly nightmares,  _ were _ they?”

“I can’t  _ believe _ you,” Darcy hissed. “And I especially can’t believe you would try to humiliate me for  _ thinking _ things about you, considering the way you’ve been  _ flirting _ with me.” She looked as though she was going to say something else, but she whipped around suddenly, wiping her eyes.

His amusement began to fade; this was not going as he’d expected. He’d hoped for anger and embarrassment, true, but he couldn’t imagine why the girl seemed so… hurt. The illusion of the handprints disappeared. “Darcy—”

“Just shut up, Mischief. Don’t you  _ dare _ play with my feelings.”

Play with  _ her _ feelings? Loki was flummoxed. “That was not my intent,” he finally offered, trailing along after her as she stalked towards the kitchen. “I have no reason to want to  _ humiliate _ you; in fact, I am flattered that you would…”

He found himself faltering.

“That I would  _ what?” _ she snapped.

“That you would desire me.” 

It was much harder to say that he ever would’ve thought, and he was almost certain he saw her flinch. “Yeah, well, I’m really glad that I helped boost your ego. I’m  _ sure _ you needed it.”

Loki caught her arm as soon as they stepped into the kitchen. “That is not what I  _ mean,”  _ he said. “I find you incredibly appealing, Darcy Lewis, and I enjoy knowing that you feel the same about  _ me.”  _

Her eyes widened. “You… what?”

“What part of that was unclear? Come now, you’ve only  _ just _ said yourself that I’ve been  _ flirting _ with you; how could you possibly be surprised?”

“I thought you were just screwing with me,” she said, a hint of the blush returning. “I mean… you’re  _ you,  _ Loki. And I’m a ‘ridiculous mortal.’ I kind of figured you’re just… a tease, I guess.”

“Well, you  _ are _ a ridiculous mortal,” Loki told her, “but somehow, tragically, I’ve still managed to find myself ensnared.”

No, this was certainly  _ not _ going the way he’d expected.

“Oh.”

“That’s all you have to say?” He still hadn’t released her arm, but neither had she tried to pull away from him.

“No. I’m still  _ pissed _ at you. That is a crazy invasion of my privacy. You wouldn’t like me poking around in your head, would you?”

Loki smirked. “Well—”

“No, you  _ wouldn’t. _ You know you’d be freaked out. I’m a person, too, Loki. Just like you.”

His smirk faded. “I know,” he replied, unintentionally solemn. “I know you are.” 

She seemed frozen, and so was he; where had all of that come from? It was like he’d torn open a wound, and all of his emotions were seeping out of him like lifeblood. It was  _ terrifying. _

He released her and breezed past her into the kitchen, suddenly eager to escape those pretty, searching eyes. “So, Miss Lewis,” he said lightly, “what would you like for breakfast?”

 

* * *

 

There was a time, Loki mused, when playing servant and cook to a woman - much less a mortal woman - would’ve been an indescribable humiliation, one that he could not endure. Now, he found himself… almost  _ enjoying _ it, if he was being entirely honest with himself.

True, it was  _ far _ below his station, and if anyone else in the Tower had seen him, he would’ve been terribly upset, but he couldn’t help but feel some degree of satisfaction at the fact that it seemed to be  _ working. _ Once he’d gotten some pancakes and coffee into her, Darcy’s mood had begun to improve dramatically; he’d even doused their plates in chocolate syrup, which made her burst into giggles.

“Did I do something incorrectly?” he asked, his brown creased in consternation.

“No, it’s just… you  _ really _ like chocolate, don’t you?”

“I do. Do you not?”

“Oh, I like it, too. Nice idea, Mischief.”

And then she smiled at him, and Loki felt a weight lift from his shoulders, one that he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying. “I have been  _ known _ to have clever ideas, from time to time.”

“Yeah? I  _ never _ would’ve guessed.”

Loki leaned against the tabletop. “You  _ will _ come to my chambers tonight, won’t you? It likely will be the weekend, by the time that we retire, and you have said that the weekends are mine…”

He hoped that he did not sound quite as pathetically hopeful as he felt.

“Maybe,” she replied, poised with a forkful of chocolate-doused pancakes halfway to her mouth. “We’ll see. Think you can behave until then?”

“Of course,” he said. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

In the lab that afternoon, he somehow managed to end up alone with Jane Foster for a few moments while Darcy went off to help Banner retrieve something from one of the storage rooms, and he took the opportunity to finally make mention of her time on Svartalfheim.

“Miss Lewis tells me that you remember very little of your adventures around the Nine Realms,” he said, rolling his chair over to her desk. “Is that correct?”

Dr. Foster seemed taken aback. “Well, yes. It’s all kind of a blur. I do appreciate you saving me, though, if that’s what you’re after.”

Loki shrugged. “Instinct,” he replied. “I suppose I am too gallant for my own good.”

“Yeah, right.” She turned back to her computer screen. Loki waited. After a minute or two, her lips turned down in a pronounced frown, though she kept scanning the figures in front of her. “Did you need something, or…?”

“What do you remember of Svartalfheim, Jane? I am trying to piece together my  _ own _ memories, you see. I find that I have lost quite a bit of myself, in nearly dying.”

It wasn’t the truth, but it was sympathetic enough; she turned back to him, her expression becoming a bit less guarded. “I really don’t remember much, Loki. I was so angry, and afraid, and everything was red and  _ dark…” _ She trailed off, almost like she was seeing something far away. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Do you remember the terrain, at least? Or the sky?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her brow furrowed. “No,” she said. “I mean, not really. Nothing distinct.”

“Ah, well. Perhaps it is for the best; perhaps it is a day that is not meant to be remembered.”

He rolled his chair away, even more perplexed about Darcy’s nightmare than he’d been before, and certainly more  _ anxious. _ Those stars had made it into her dreams somehow…

“Hey, Loki?” 

Glancing up from his own computer, Loki found Dr. Foster watching him, a surprisingly soft expression on her face. “Yes?”

“I really meant it,” she said. “Thank you for saving me. I know you didn’t  _ have _ to…  but you did.”

Loki felt uncomfortable; he did not know what to say, and so he said nothing.

Jane simply smiled and turned back to her work.

 

* * *

 

Darcy Lewis  _ did _ agree to come into his chambers with him that night, much to Loki’s relief. He decided to make no further mention of his embarrassing declaration of interest, and she seemed equally content to let the matter rest. They curled up on the couch with a carton of the iced cream, Loki’s blanket tucked carefully around them. Even  _ he _ could admit that the evening had grown a bit chilly; he wondered if it was going to snow.

She eventually ended up nestled against his shoulder, one of her arms wrapped around his waist. As bold as he’d been in her dreams, in life, Loki did not dare to move; if he did, she might flee, and then he  _ knew _ he’d get no rest that night.

They were halfway through some gory, senseless horror film when Darcy flinched, crushing against him, and Loki was a bit startled to find that it actually  _ hurt. _ And then she glanced down, peeling the blanket away from his chest. “Oh, God,” she said. “Loki, you’re  _ bleeding.” _

He stared at the damning crimson spot on his sweater, slightly shocked. It couldn’t be getting  _ worse, _ could it? There was a smudge of blood on her arm, as well, and he cringed in shame. “I am sorry, Darcy, I did not realize—”

“Don’t be sorry,” she interrupted, her hands fluttering uselessly as she seemed to debate the best course of action. “Are you okay? I didn’t know—”

“It’s nothing,” he assured her. “It’s taking some time to heal, but I will be fine. I survived it, after all, didn’t I? It is just taking some time for the wound to fully close, it seems.” Loki carefully extricated himself from the blanket. “I will go change. Stay, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Her eyes were still just as wide, just as worried, and he felt his own anxiety bubbling. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call for a medic or something? Or maybe Bruce?”

“No. It’s best if no one knows, Darcy. Please, just… trust me. Everything will be fine.”

And he tried to hide the slight sway in his steps as he hurried off to his bathroom, feeling suddenly nauseous. He wished that he could ask Mother, surely she would know what to do… or even  _ Father. _ Loki winced, splashing cold water on his face. No, not  _ Father.  _ Odin would likely be glad if he died, after all the trouble Loki had caused him.

He could see the veins under his skin when he peeled off his sweater, dark and grey, and his stomach lurched all over again.  _ I need to rest,  _ he told himself.  _ I simply need to sleep, and I will regain my strength, and with my strength, I will restore my body. _

Carefully, he cleaned and re-bandaged his torso, then retrieved a fresh sweater from his dresser, along with some of the softer sweatpants that Darcy seemed to consider sleeping-clothes. She was anxiously hovering outside of his bedroom door when he reemerged moments later, and he almost bumped into her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was just listening out to make sure you didn’t faint or something. Look, are you  _ sure _ you don’t want to go to someone about this? I’m sure Tony and Bruce could help us keep things under wraps.”

“It isn’t worth the risk.” She seemed ready to argue, and Loki sighed heavily, leaning against his door frame. “Can we please just return to watching the film?”

Darcy hesitated, then nodded. When she settled back in on the couch, she patted her lap awkwardly, and Loki stared at her in response, entirely lost.

“You want to put your head in my lap?” she asked. “I thought… I mean, I thought you might want to stretch out on the couch, and I don’t really mind.”

Her thighs were  _ exceptionally _ comfortable, Loki decided, still slightly shocked that they’d somehow ended up in this position. After a few moments of uncomfortable stillness, he felt her fingers comb through his hair, and he barely suppressed a delighted little hum.

“Everything is going to be okay, Loki,” she whispered. “Sooner or later, things always get better. I promise.”

And, ridiculous though it was that she - a tiny, fragile,  _ mortal _ woman - was the one attempting to reassure  _ him… _ he almost believed her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I've been missing this pair <3 I'm going to try to get back to my #TowerTuesdays update schedule, so expect to see more next week!


	13. Brownies & Bedlam

When the morning came, Loki buried his face into the couch, waving his hand to turn his windows opaque. It was far too early to deal with  _ sunlight. _ Except, the couch was breathing, and he quickly came to the realization that his face was pressed not against the cushions or his blanket, but against the stomach of Darcy Lewis, who had apparently remained in the same position all night long. 

The first thing he felt was  _ contentment, _ quickly followed by a flood of guilt. How had she even managed to sleep in such a position? She couldn’t possibly be comfortable. “Darcy,” he whispered, rolling over on his back. “Darcy, it’s morning.”

She grunted in annoyance as he prodded her chin, then finally opened her eyes. “What?”

“It’s morning.”

Darcy blinked at him slowly, seemingly irritated. “So?”

“Would you like to lie down?”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, tapping his head. Loki sat up for a moment, and the mortal managed to wiggle between his body and the couch cushions, quickly nestling herself within the crook of his arm. “I’m still sleepy.”

“Then sleep, mortal. We have nowhere else to be.”

She yawned. “Shouldn’t waste the day.”

“Would it really be a waste?” He dared to pet her hair, as she’d done with his during the night. It was very soothing, and he enjoyed the way she smelled more and more each day. “Is the entire point of your earthly weekends not to rest?”

“Maybe.”

He shouldn’t have turned to look at her, because her face was so very, very close to his own, her eyes still bleary. And her lips…

Loki wanted to kiss her.

“How are you feeling?” Darcy asked, lightly running her fingers down his chest.

There was no real pain, merely an enduring, dull sort of ache, compounded by his exhaustion. At least his mind felt a bit clearer, after a full night of dreamless sleep. “Well enough,” he  replied. “You make a very comfortable pillow, mortal.”

She snorted. “Remind me to add that to my resume. You hungry?”

“Always, but I’d rather stay here for a little while. We have the day, unless you’ve gone and made more of your  _ plans.” _

Darcy was smiling. Why was she  _ smiling? _ “What if I did? Are you gonna pout?”

He yanked on a strand of her hair, just hard enough to make her wince. “I am a  _ god, _ mortal. Gods do not pout.”

“Ow! Seems like you didn’t get the memo, then,  _ Your Highness,  _ because you pout _ all the time.” _

“Never.” He twirled her hair around his finger; it was rich and dark, and he liked the feel of it, liked the thought of  _ pulling _ it… “Darcy,” he said abruptly, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, “I have the most marvelous idea.”

Her eyes were beginning to drift closed again, but he did not mind. Really, it pleased him, in some strange way, that she seemed to melt against him so easily. “Hmm? What is it?”

“Let us hide away in my chambers all day. Does that not sound pleasant?”

“Oh, so you want to be caged up with the human all day?  _ Interesting.” _

Loki chose to ignore that; it was certainly true, but there was no way in Hel that he would admit to it. “I see no reason to emerge and deal with all of  _ that,” _ he said, waving vaguely at the door. “Besides, I am also offering you a reprieve from your training - is that not tempting enough?”

Sighing, she curled more snugly against his side. “That is pretty tempting. But it’s not like you’re in any shape to work out, anyway. I really,  _ really _ wish you’d let someone take a look at you, Lokes. If you die, I’ll be out of a job.”

The joke fell flat; there was too much genuine concern behind it. “It is lucky for you, then, that I am immortal.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Darcy traced her fingers along the hem of his shirt, and Loki froze, trying to ignore the furious beating of his heart. “But you’ve forgotten an important detail.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been in these clothes for like twenty-four hours at this point, and I could really use a shower.”

“Use mine,” he said on impulse, nearly cringing at his own eagerness to keep her at his side.

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you  _ still—” _

“Not with me,” he amended. “But this is much like a… what are they called here? Your inns?”

“Hotels?”

“Yes. It is really no different than sharing a room in a  _ hotel, _ is it? As if you are on a holiday? And no one will know. In fact, this is the only set of rooms in the building where you are  _ entirely _ safe from prying eyes.”

“Well… okay. I guess it might be nice to stay off the radar for a little while. But, are you sure you’re feeling alright? Because I can’t really figure out what your angle is, here.”

“The workings of my mind are mysterious, indeed.” Loki couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from her lips. His focus did not escape her notice, and she let out a shaky breath.

“This is weird, Mischief,” Darcy whispered. “Right? This whole…  _ thing.” _

“Is it?” His voice was just as hushed as hers had been, and for a moment - just a brief moment - he’d thought that she might lean forward, closing the distance between them. 

Instead, she sat up, suddenly eager to look anywhere but his face. “Well, I guess I should go shower.” 

Then, much to Loki’s surprise and consternation, she slung her leg over his waist and wiggled over him, practically  _ sprinting _ towards his bedroom door the moment she’d managed to clear the couch. He pushed himself up on his elbows, dumbfounded. She was so… _ perplexing. _

Loki fell back against the cushions, raking his fingers through his hair, trying to drive away the thought of her under the scalding spray of his shower - so near, yet so terribly,  _ terribly _ far.

He was not successful.

 

* * *

 

“You know,” Darcy said, sauntering out of his bedroom some time later, “you are  _ really _ freakin’ tall, Mischief.”

He burst into laughter - he simply couldn’t help it. She’d put on one of his thin shirts and sweatpants, and though she’d cuffed them, they still dragged the ground.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, anxiously fidgeting with the waistband of her pants. “Do I look bad, or something?”

“Not bad,” Loki replied. “Merely… odd.” Springing to his feet, he crossed over to her in only a few steps, a wicked smile on his face. “Would you like to see?”

“What do you—” she began, but then she clapped her hand over her mouth and shrieked, because as the golden glimmer of Loki’s magic faded, she was faced by a carbon copy of herself. 

Still grinning, Loki took an exaggerated bow. “Darcy Lewis, at your service.”

She slowly lowered her hands from her mouth, eyes wide, and then she reach out and yanked on a lock of his hair. “What the hell.”

“Do you  _ mind?”  _ Loki snapped, swatting her away. “I can still  _ feel  _ things.”

“Huh.” Darcy waved her hand over his head, seemingly shocked when she made no contact. “What’s it like being short, Lokes?”

“Horrid,” he replied. “I’d rather be dead.”

She snorted. “And  _ I’m  _ somehow the ridiculous one.” Taking a few steps back, she carefully examined his form, searching for some mistake, some defect. There were none; Loki was exceptionally confident in his ability to change forms, and besides that, he was  _ woefully  _ conscious of how she looked. 

“I’m looking pretty hot,” Darcy said after a moment, circling him. “Like,  _ damn.  _ Guess those squats are paying off, huh? This is pretty cool. Like a mirror, but  _ better.” _

“I’m thrilled that my vast, awesome powers complement your vanity, mortal.”

“Hey, you’re the one who started showing off. Can you do me? Make me look like someone?”

Loki shifted back to his own form, rolling his neck. “Later, perhaps. I am not some trick-horse, Miss Lewis.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“We might as well go ahead and prepare something to eat, while we are up and about. I am sorely tempted to spend the rest of the day on the couch; I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“Gods get tired?”

“Exceptionally,” he replied. “Though, I do suppose it is a  _ different _ sort of exhaustion than what a mortal might experience.”

“That’s fair, I guess. Carrying around stress from thousands of years has to be  _ rough. _ I can make food, if you wanna sit down? I mean, you’ll owe me one, but I don’t mind.”

Loki frowned. Did he really seem so feeble? “No, I am more than capable of  _ standing,  _ mortal.”

“Okay, then,” Darcy replied, pulling a pot out of the cabinet. “Get the butter and milk out of the fridge, Mischief; we’re making mac and cheese.”

 

* * *

 

_ “Pasta _ is not a dish on Asgard,” Loki informed her some time later, as they sat stuffed and drowsy on the couch. “But I am finding that I enjoy it. I also find myself becoming rather fond of chocolate.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Smiling to herself, Darcy collected their dishes and deposited them in the sink. 

“This is amusing to you?”

“A little,” she said. “It’s funny that you’re so into food. But, in a  _ good  _ way. I just never expected to hear  _ Prince Loki the Mischievous _ praising macaroni and chocolate.”

Loki laughed. “Well, I  _ do _ need to make a list of what to get rid of and what to keep once I rule this world, don’t I?”

“You’re still on that? Jesus, Lokes. Hey, you want some brownies? If you’re hinting about chocolate, I can only assume you want some brownies.”

His interest was instantly piqued. “They are chocolate?”

“Yup.” Darcy winked at him - she wasn’t very good at it, but he found it dreadfully charming. “One pan of brownies, coming right up. Tomorrow, though, you’re cooking  _ me  _ everything; or, if you want to cheat, you can order in something super fancy for us.”

“Ah, so you are after my  _ wealth, _ are you?”

“Obviously. Why else would I take this job? It’s definitely not for the  _ prestige.” _

Following her to the kitchen, Loki leaned heavily against the counter, a sly smile on his lips. “I thought that perhaps you’d taken this job for the  _ view.” _

“Nah.” He thought she might be blushing, but she’d turned to the stove too quickly for him to be certain. “That’s just an unexpected perk.”

 

* * *

 

“Why is he releasing the fish?” Loki asked, baffled. “He has just spent the entire hour attempting to catch it.”

“It’s just an educational thing,” Darcy replied, carving yet another brownie from the pan. “Catches them to show them to people, then lets them go. It’s pretty neat what kinds of things live underwater here, though, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, but—”

The intercom suddenly beeped, and then Tony Stark’s voice blared though, much louder than it needed to be. “Hey, Shakespeare, you up? I’m coming in, either way.”

Darcy froze as the door slid open, a brownie in hand and a guilty expression on her face.  _ Wonderful,  _ Loki thought.  _ What now? _

Stark sidled into the room, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t seem very surprised to find Darcy Lewis sitting there in clothing that  _ clearly _ wasn’t hers - or, if he  _ was  _ surprised, he did a rather convincing job of hiding it. “Project time. We’re supposed to get some work done this weekend, remember?”

“Project?” Darcy asked, looking between the two of them. “What project?”

“A weapon,” Loki replied. “A weapon that is capable of neutralizing me, in fact. I am the target.”

_ “Hey, _ that makes it sound  _ mean.  _ You’re technically more of a co-designer.” Stark grinned, then snagged a brownie from the pan on the coffee table. “A co-designer that I get to  _ shoot _ at, which is basically the ideal partnership.”

“Tony, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Darcy began, “Loki isn’t feeling—”

“I am fine.” Loki stood, brushing crumbs from his pants. He’d die of mortification if she tried to plead for him to be spared from his task because he was feeling  _ weak.  _ “I will change, Anthony, and then I will join you.”

“Still don’t like when you call me that!” Stark called after him, and Loki caught himself nearly smiling. 

Darcy Lewis insisted on accompanying them down to the training room, and in fact, she seemed rather vexed that she had not been included to begin with. “I am his  _ liaison,”  _ she snapped, taking a firmer tone than he’d ever heard her use before, “and  _ I’m _ the one whose entire job is looking out for  _ him.  _ If you want him to do something, you don’t need to be sneaking around behind my back.”

“Sorry,” Stark replied, pushing open the doors to the training room. “Just trying to keep things  _ low-key,  _ I guess. Get it?”

“That was terrible, Tony.”

“Yeah, I know. Pepper’s out of town, and I’m off my game. Chronic insomnia. You know what that’s like, don’t you, Frosty?”

Loki did not reply. 

“I think we all have craptastic dreams,” Darcy said. “All the aliens and world-ending stuff screws around with your head, I guess. Jane says sometimes she just dreams of  _ red.  _ Like, nothing else, just the color red and the feeling of anger.”

“Yeah? You have nightmares, Austen?”

“Fairly often. What, I’d never mentioned it?”

“No,” Stark replied, “but you should’ve.”

“Darcy,” Loki said, “there is really no need for you to be here, if you’d like to return to your rooms?” He had a feeling that he was going to end up bested by the Iron Man, this time around, and he’d really prefer to have no witnesses.

“Nah, I’ll stay. Maybe I’ll learn some new moves, who knows?”

Loki grit his teeth. “Very well, then. Do your worst,  _ Anthony.”  _

“You might wanna get out of the way, Darcy. One of us will probably end up flying into a wall; we play rough.”

_ “Fun.” _ She retreated behind a large steel counter, giving them the thumbs up. “I’m good back here. Try to aim  _ not  _ in this direction.”

Stark’s suit assembled across his frame, and Loki braced himself. “I am ready,” he said, “and I fully intend to blast you to the floor, as you have interrupted my day of rest.”

“Do your worst, Blitzen. Three, two,  _ one—” _

The ring threw up a net of blinding white light, and Loki was shocked to realize that he could not dodge it; his breath was knocked from his lungs as a powerful force cracked against his ribs, and he was vaguely aware of the sound of Darcy Lewis calling his name. 

Opening his eyes, he found the blurry, worried face of Tony Stark looming over him. “Jesus Christ, he’s bleeding. Call Thor!”

Loki squinted up at him, irritated.  _ “No,” _ he said, but he mustn’t have said it loudly enough, because Stark entirely ignored him. 

Darcy appeared over him a moment later, and he wondered if something had happened to the lighting during the blast, for her features seemed dim.  _ “Breathe, _ Loki,” she said. “Please,  _ please _ breathe.”

_ Aren’t I? _

“Check his mouth,” Stark said. “Airways look clear?”

There was a ripping sort of sound as Darcy began to fade, and he felt a hand on his chin. “I think so. No blood. I can feel him breathing, but barely. Tony, what’s—”

Stark began to curse.  _ “Look _ at this. What the hell  _ is _ it? Is it infected?”

_ “Oh, God. _ Loki, hang on, okay? Just hang on.”

Loki wanted to tell her that he was  _ fine,  _ that there was no need for such hysterics, but he could not find his voice. In fact, he could no longer make out her face, darkness swimming across his vision. 

Then, he couldn’t feel anything at all. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone who's celebrating! I'm excited to have this chapter and the next chapter as a very special TowerTuesday! <3


	14. Convalescence & Christmas

The first thing that Loki noticed was a heavy weight across his chest. The _second_ thing he noticed was a faint beeping noise, somewhere to his left. He frowned in irritation, and made an attempt to silence it with a flick of his fingers, but he found that his fingers would not _move._

At that, Loki began to panic.

The beeping became more insistent.

“Loki?”

_Darcy._

There was a pressure on his hand. “Can you open your eyes, Loki?”

She made it sound very important, and Loki forced his heavy eyelids open. Light blinded him, and he blinked slowly, frowning as the world came into focus.

“Don’t try to move.” Darcy leaned over him, and Loki flinched slightly as her hand stretched towards his face. Her eyes widened. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

There was something over his mouth, he realized then, and he watched warily as she pulled it away. Her eyes were reddened, he noticed, and her clothing rumpled.

“How are you feeling?”

The pressure on his fingers tightened. He realized that she was holding his hand. Loki licked his lips; he felt so _dry,_ like he’d just crawled from a fire-canyon in Muspelheim. _“Water.”_

“I’ll get you something. They had a hard time getting fluids in you - the regular IV needle wouldn’t go through your skin.” Her smile was shaky. “I guess you’re just too tough, Mischief.”

She tried to leave, but Loki was struck by a sudden sense of fear, and he gripped her fingers firmly, wordlessly begging her to stay.

Darcy perched on the side of the bed. “I’m just going to get water,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, I’ll stay right here with you. The others should be back soon, and then we’ll get you all fixed up, I promise.”

“Sound,” he rasped. The beeping had calmed a bit, but it still grated on his nerves, irritating his pounding head.

“Heart monitor. I mean, it monitors _all_ of your vitals, I guess. We need to leave that hooked up. They’re still trying to figure out… well, trying to figure out what to do. There’s something… an infection, Bruce thinks. You aren’t healing like they think you should.”

Her eyes had a slight sheen to them, and Loki squeezed her fingers again. “Tough,” he said, too exhausted to curse his lack of eloquence.

Every breath hurt. His eyelashes fluttered.

“I’m going to put the oxygen mask back on, okay? And you should close your eyes and rest, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here, Loki. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

He could still feel her hand in his when he opened his eyes again. His room was dark, save for the artificial light of the monitor by his bed and a thin beam managing to slip beneath the door. _It must be nighttime,_ he thought. Had he really been unconscious for so many hours?

“Darcy?”

The girl did not budge; she seemed to be asleep, her hair a disheveled mess on the mattress near his hip.

“Darcy?” he tried again, shaking her hand slightly.

She bolted upright, dragging the mask from his mouth. “Loki! Thank God you’re awake, I was starting to wonder if… Let me go get Tony, okay?”

“How long?”

Darcy bit her lip, as if she wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. “Seventy-four hours,” she said. “It’s been seventy-four hours since we went down to the workshop.”

He let out a sharp breath. “Who knows?”

“Only essential people. Tony’s trying to keep this under wraps. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t know, as far as we know. That’s one reason they set up this stuff in your room - for privacy.”

“Thor?”

“He’s out on the couch. He’s been trying to help Tony and Bruce work out a profile of your medical history, basically. They don’t want to accidentally poison you, or something.”

Loki snorted.

“Hey, don’t give me that. He’s been worried sick. We _all_ have. Let me run and get them.” She carefully extricated her hand from his. “And I’ll get you something to drink, so long as Bruce says it’s safe. You feeling hungry at all?”

“No,” he said. “Stay.”

“They need to talk to you while you’re awake,” she said. “And I need to go get some stuff from my room really quick, too, but I’ll be back, and then you can sleep some more. I _might_ even be willing to be your servant, just for a little while. _Just_ until you’re feeling better.”

 _That_ was an enticing prospect. Loki nodded.

“Be back before you know it,” Darcy said, and then she pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and fled the room.

The monitor beeped.

Thor’s head appeared in the doorway a moment later, and once he’d seen that Loki was awake, he all but ran into the room, Tony Stark following close behind him. “Why did you not _tell_ me—” he began, but then he seemed to catch himself, and his voice lowered. “The wound from the Kurse is tainted, Loki, and it seems to be feeding off your magic.”

Loki blinked. “How?”

“We don’t know,” Stark said. “This isn’t exactly rocket science - it’s much harder. We don’t even have anyone to compare your physiology to, really; you and Thor are _similar,_ but there are enough differences to make things challenging.”

The weight on his chest was crushing, and Loki coughed, wincing in embarrassment as Thor wrapped his arm around his shoulders and propped him up on his pillows. “Eir,” he wheezed. “Aside from Mother—”

“I know,” Thor said. “Save your strength. I am going to consult with Lady Eir and Father; I only wanted to wait until you’d woken. Is there anything else that I can tell her - anything at all? Symptoms? Any of your knowledge of dark magics?”

“Dreams,” Loki replied. “Tell her… strange dreams.”

Frowning, Thor exchanged look with Stark, but Loki was too tired to care if they thought him lost in fevered ramblings. “What sort of dreams, Loki?”

“The Dark World.”

 

* * *

 

Stark lingered in his room for some time after Thor had left, fussing with his electronics and asking his artificial computer servant to run diagnostics. Loki had very little choice but to tolerate his presence; he was in no condition to chase him off.

“So, this Eir is a healing goddess, huh?”

“Yes.”

“My _goal,”_ Stark said, “is to have you all patched up by the time Thor gets back. Wouldn’t that be impressive?” Loki said nothing, and Stark sighed. “Look,” he began, “I wouldn’t have—”

“Don’t,” Loki interrupted. “Just… don’t.”

The last thing he wanted was _pity._

“You’re kind of part of the team now, and even if you aren’t my _favorite…_ I’d take it kind of personally if you died under my roof, Blitzen. Well, unless I’m doing it intentionally, obviously.”

“Cannot die. God.”

Stark’s lips turned up, the faintest hint of a smile. “Good,” he said. “You nearly had us fooled. Don’t worry; I’m not planning to stay long. I was _ordered_ to keep an eye on you by the Royal Liaison. She’s kind of convincing.”

“No need.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll let you take that up with her.”

When Stark abruptly left the room, Loki was torn somewhere between relief and anxiety, for as much as he despised being seen in such a pitiful state, he also feared being alone with his pain. It was even stranger, then, that he did not know what to feel when the man came back into the room with a bottle of water in hand, a straw protruding from it.

“Think you can manage? Your body was _not_ on board with the saline drip, and you’re honestly starting to look a little crusty.”

Loki glared.

Sighing, Stark held out the bottle. “Go on,” he said. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Gotta maintain our bad-boy images.”

Swearing to himself that he’d wipe the mortal man’s memories as soon as he was well again, Loki leaned forward and caught the straw between his lips, nearly draining the entire bottle in only a moment.

“Slow down, Frosty.”

Loki fell back against his pillows. “I _am_ a healer,” he managed, feeling just the slightest bit more refreshed.

“Yeah, well, I might trust your _expert_ opinion a little more if you hadn’t let a magical gash in your chest fester for a month.”

He continued to glare.

“You should sleep,” Stark said. “I can give you a sedative; we’ve got one that works on Asgardians, and we’re pretty sure that it’ll have almost the same effects on you.”

“No. I do not… I want to stay aware.” He thought he saw something on the mortal’s face that seemed dangerously close to _sympathy,_ and Loki renewed his inner vow to wipe this entire incident from all of their minds, once he could fully harness his powers again.

“Your call. We’ll see if you can hold the water down, and once we’ve run a few more tests, maybe we can get some food in you. I’ll let Austen do the spoon-feeding, though.”

 _Norns be accursed,_ Loki thought; when he’d dreamt of Darcy Lewis serving him, he hadn’t meant for it to be like _this,_ for it to be because he was _weak._

Stark dragged the chair that Darcy had previously occupied to the corner of the room. “Just sleep,” he said. “Unless you want to have a staring contest. You’re half-dead, so I’d probably win.”

He settled into the chair and began tinkering with his datapad, and Loki closed his eyes. Maybe when he woke up, if he was lucky, he would discover that this had all been nothing more than a bizarre, horrid sort of dream.

 

* * *

 

Darcy Lewis slept in the chair by his bedside that night; they had decided to wait to feed him anything solid, and so she sat next to him and held up some sort of sugary fruit juice for him to drink, passing their hours watching some mindless television show that she’d projected onto the wall from his datapad.

Loki tried to keep his eyes open - really, he did - but it was a struggle. He found himself dozing, and eventually, Darcy dozed off, as well. He woke sometime during the night, and for a moment or two, he simply watched her. _Why is she doing this?_ he wondered. _Why are any of them doing this?_

He regained some of his strength over the following days, and Bruce Banner declared it imperative that they get nutrients into him _somehow,_ so Loki had been tempted with a variety of options, none of which seemed particularly appealing in his current state. Darcy finally gave up and offered him more iced cream; it was not _healthy,_ she argued, but at least it would be better than nothing.

She had to be bored, surely; for the week following the incident, Darcy hardly left his side, save for the occasional trip to fetch fresh clothing or some sort of treat to attempt to convince him to eat. After a few days, she even began to sleep next to him in his bed, though she was very careful to keep her distance, a fact that Loki found terribly vexing.

Had he been able to simply _move,_ he would’ve dragged her into his arms. He wondered if she would be so eager to stay, once he was well again.

“I know you hate this,” she told him one day, hovering outside his bathroom door. “Having me here all the time trying to take care of you, and everything. But, I _know_ you’ll feel better soon, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

When he stepped back into his bedroom, she helped him settle back onto the bed, fussing with his pillows. “Having you here is… not unpleasant,” he said. “Being unable to _move,_ on the other hand, is _infuriating.”_

“Maybe you’ll be up and around in time for Christmas. I _hope_ so; you’ll love the cookies. And presents - I bet you _love_ getting presents.”

“You should understand by now that your holidays do not correspond to those on Asgard.”

“Glad to see you’re feeling _snarky_ again, Mischief. Christmas is a pretty big one; I figured you’d probably noticed the commercials on TV and everything. I talked Tony into getting a tree. It’s gonna be great. Even if you can’t get out of bed, I’ll bring you food and hot chocolate, and we can just have a party right here.”

Loki frowned at her; why did she seem so terribly invested in getting him interested in human _parties?_ “You enjoy this festival?”

“Mhmm. I like most holidays, actually. Family, friends, food, fun…”

“But, will you be with your family? Did you not say that you will be here for the celebrations?”

“Well… not this year. I guess the Stark Squad _is_ kind of like family now. Or, they cover the _friend_ category pretty solidly, at least. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

“Hmm. When is this _Christmas?”_

“It’s always December twenty-fifth, which is like… four days from now. You better be a good kid, Lokes, if you want to get any presents.” Darcy smiled, and Loki was glad to see it; she’d seemed much too serious as she’d fussed over him for the past week, and it made him feel _ashamed._  

“I see no point; anything I desire, I can purchase for myself.”

She rolled her eyes. “Giving the gift _is_ the point. It’s the _gesture._ Considering you used to get offerings and stuff back in the day, I’m sure you can understand how that’s nice.”

“Yes, but I _deserved_ offerings.” He managed to grin, and had he not been in such a poor state, he thought that she might’ve struck him with her pillow - for she had, in her time in his room, selected a pillow from his bed that was now indisputably _hers._

“Coal, maybe. Anyways, we’re hoping that Thor will be back in a day or two with some answers, and Bruce says your vitals are looking better. And _you_ just look better, too.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You know what I mean. You were all pale and grey for like three days; it was _scary._ I thought you were gonna die, and then I’d be out of a job.”

The fact that she now seemed confident enough in his condition to tease him, Loki decided, was massively reassuring. Perhaps the mortals were better at medical care than he’d supposed. “No,” he said, taking her hand. “No, Miss Lewis, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

 

* * *

 

Much as he enjoyed having a pretty woman at his side, Loki did not mind when, over the weekend, Darcy spent some time away from him. He knew that she had to feel dreadfully caged-in; he certainly did. There were errands she had to run, and meetings that she needed to attend, and Loki felt pleased, at least, knowing that he was far enough away from death’s door to be left alone for a time.

He watched the television, and he read more of mortal customs on the Internet, attempting to understand what it was that Darcy Lewis seemed to find so compelling about holiday festivities; though, in all fairness, many members of the royal court on Asgard had enjoyed any excuse to have a holiday, as well.

His powers continued to largely evade his grasp, save for the heavy pressure in his chest, which he could only assume was some sort of instinctive attempt to contain the infection. By Monday, he was able to move about some without assistance, and he stretched out on his couch, thankful to simply be outside of his bedroom again, free of the infernal beeping of Stark’s monitor.

Still, it was worrisome that Thor had yet to return from Asgard; he’d had high hopes that the Lady Eir would know of a simple solution, and if that failed… well, he might’ve even dared to hope that Odin Allfather would lend his aid.

Perhaps they’d decided that it would be best for the Realms if Loki Laufeyson was left to rot away.

 

* * *

 

He lay on his couch with his head on her lap early on a Tuesday morning, freshly-showered and bandaged. It was very, very _cold,_ and Darcy had forced him into a horribly tacky sweater. It was comfortable, at least; he’d only complained a little.

“If I make you a sandwich,” she asked, “will you eat it?”

“I suppose.” Loki sat up and watched her as she went to his kitchen, so _oddly_ at-home in his chambers. “Do you not have other tasks to attend to, now that your work-week has begun again?”

“Well, _you’re_ my job, Mischief. Besides, it’s the holidays; nobody can reasonably expect for me to get anything productive done on Christmas Eve. But, I _am_ going out tonight. There’s a party - I’d bring you, if I could. You’ll be okay for a while, right?”

“Of course.”

“And then, tomorrow, we’re gonna celebrate in Tony’s penthouse. I’ll wheel you down there myself if I have to, but I’m not gonna let you miss it.”

He grimaced. “Perhaps.”

“Or,” Darcy conceded, “maybe we’ll bring the party to you, if we need to. Either way, it’s your first Christmas on Earth! We have to do _something.”_

“As long as there are sweets, I suppose I _might_ be able to endure it.”

Grinning, she presented him with his sandwich, then dropped back onto the couch beside him. “I’ll get you all the sugar you can handle, Mischief. Just you wait and see.”

 

* * *

 

Despite Loki’s hopes, when Thor finally returned to the Tower early that evening, the news he brought with him was only vaguely positive. “I have a potion,” he told them, “that both Lady Eir and Odin have worked tirelessly to craft; however, they caution that it is only a temporary solution. With a magical infection of this strength, Loki, they fear that more drastic measures may be needed.”

Darcy sat by his side on the couch, their fingers nearly touching - _nearly,_ but not _quite;_ it seemed that she still thought it prudent to maintain some sort of pretense around the others. Loki couldn’t begin to imagine why, for _surely_ they had all noticed that she’d barely left his room over the past week and a half.

“How drastic?” she asked. “Because I don’t think we can amputate, considering it’s his torso.”

Loki gave her a sour look, but Stark snorted. “Yeah, I’m with Austen. Are you talking drastic by human standards, or is this going to take something crazy to get rid of for good?”

Thor sighed. “Antivenom, derived from the bite of the serpent that gnaws on the roots of Yggdrasil. According to Father, the Dark Elves once harnessed his all-consuming hunger to—”

“The bite of _Níðhöggr?”_ Loki interrupted. “Are you _mad?”_

“It is the only way, Brother. I will go there myself.”

“You’re a fool; you’ll be killed at once.”

“And if I do not, _you_ will die a slow and painful death!”

“Let’s cool it with the doom and gloom, okay?” Darcy said, patting Loki on the knee. “We’ll figure out a solid game plan before anyone heads off to deal with any crazy evil serpents, and it isn’t exactly like we’re short on geniuses around here. We’re bound to figure _something_ out.”

Banner had been pacing the room the entire time, setting Loki’s nerves even more on-edge. “This venom isn’t something we can replicate here in the lab?” he asked. “We have some of the best resources available, so if there’s a way—”

“There isn’t.” Thor crouched before Loki, his features schooled, but his eyes betraying his worry. “If I am unsuccessful, Loki, then you will have to return to Asgard; Father might be able to put you into a stasis with the OdinForce, as a last resort.”

“If this wound is truly cursed, the Bifrost would likely rip it wide open. That sort of power—”

“That is why it is _only_ a last resort. I will leave tomorrow.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Stark said. “You aren’t going alone, and we need to make sure we’re prepared for whatever we’re going to find out there.”

“Plus,” Darcy added, raising her hand, “It’s Christmas tomorrow, and _damn_ it, we’re going to celebrate the fact that _all_ of us are still alive and kicking.”

 

* * *

 

Loki could remember very little of what was said after that; the potion made him drowsy, or perhaps he was simply exhausted from the conversation, and he’d soon returned to his bed. Darcy Lewis pulled the covers up to his chin, brushing his hair back from his face. Her hands were warm against his forehead, and he closed his eyes, wishing that she’d stay.

“I won’t be gone long, Mischief, okay? You take a nap, and once I go and make an appearance at this thing, I’ll sneak out and head back. _And_ I’ll even bring you some snacks.”

“You don’t have to fuss over me,” he said sourly, turning his head away. “I am not a child.”

Her hand left his head. “You don’t want me to come back?”

“No, I do. But how am I to keep you in your place, Darcy Lewis, when I am trapped on my back?”

Darcy snorted. “Maybe I _like_ you on your back - you ever think about that?”

Loki was still trying to decide how to respond when the door closed behind her, and he was left in the dark.

 

* * *

 

“Lokes? I brought you some chocolate-covered pretzels; do you want them now?” Darcy’s voice was close to his ear, and Loki turned towards her, groping blindly in the darkness.

 _There you are,_ he thought as his fingers brushed the plush fabric of her sweater, attempting to pull her closer. He wanted sleep, and he wanted _her._

“Hang on,” she hissed, “I’m still dressed up.”

Loki grunted in annoyance and rolled to his side, and he’d nearly fallen asleep once again by the time Darcy Lewis joined him in bed. Her skin was cool, and he sighed in satisfaction as she wrapped herself around him, molding to his back.

“Sleep,” he ordered.

“Yeah,” Darcy replied, sounding slightly amused. She nuzzled between his shoulder blades, and Loki felt some of his worries melt away. “Yeah, you too.”

 

* * *

 

He woke to Darcy poking his cheek, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Christmas is here!” she declared. “No sleeping in, bub. Let’s get you dressed and to the penthouse; this is gonna be _absurd,_ and I am _so excited."_

She was wearing a bright blue sweater with more of those odd penguin-birds on it, and Loki might’ve made a scathing comment, had she not seemed so delighted at the prospect of a celebration. “I got you one, too,” she added. He suppressed a groan; the sweater in question was (unsurprisingly) green, and bedecked with golden deer.

“Do you honestly expect me to wear this, Miss Lewis?”

“Don’t ‘Miss Lewis’ _me,_ Mischief. It’ll keep you cozy, and it’s cute. You did say you’d have fun with me if I gave you chocolate, remember? Wear the sweater, and you’ll get all the chocolate you can handle.”

“I will humor you,” Loki said, “but only this once.”

 _“Yes!_ I knew you would. I’ll wait for you outside, but don’t take too long! Thor might eat all of the cookies, and then you’ll be pissed all day.”

Loki dressed carefully, attempting not to pull his bandages loose. The sweater she’d provided for him, while garish, was admittedly comfortable; at the very least, it allowed plenty of room for him to move, and it was warm. He’d never been bothered by the cold before, but ever since the accursed infection had taken root, he’d craved warmth.

 _Darcy_ was warm. Really, the only reason that Loki had decided to participate in her ridiculous festivities was because he hoped that it might encourage her to continue spending the nights in his bed, perhaps even after he’d healed.

After snagging the gift he’d ordered for her from the drawer in his nightstand, Loki joined Darcy and made his way to Stark’s penthouse, already regretting his decision.

There _were_ plenty of sweets, which was a welcome distraction, and Loki carried an entire plate of them to one of the chairs in the corner, partially hidden from the rest of the room by a large, evergreen tree bedecked in multicolored lights. _So odd,_ he thought, biting the head off of a cookie that appeared to be shaped like a man.

For the most part, the others seemed more than willing to allow him to keep to himself, and Loki had almost begun to feel slightly cheerful by the time Darcy approached him, a mug and a brightly-colored paper package in her hand. “I got you some hot chocolate,” she said. “Want some?”

“Yes,” he replied. “And what is that in your hand?”

Darcy bit her lip. “Oh, this? It’s just a Christmas present. Don’t expect much - you seem kind of hard to shop for, considering you’re a snobby alien prince and all that.”

Carefully, he popped the adhesive strips from the paper and unfolded it, taking his time; Darcy was fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, and he enjoyed teasing her. When he finally finished unwrapping the thing, he found a framed photograph of the two of them, the very same one that he’d set as her contact picture on his datapad. The frame was ornate and gilt - it would likely look ridiculously out-of-place in his sleek, modern chambers, which Loki was nearly certain was intentional.  

“Is it… is it terrible?” she asked. “I mean, I just thought that your room could use some personality, you know? And—”

“I do like it,” he interrupted, pulling a small box from his pocket. “I like it very much, Darcy.”

She smiled, then caught sight of the box. “What’s that?”

“For you,” Loki said, offering it to her. “As is tradition.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “How… when did you have time?”

“I have spent over a week lying around with nothing better to do; I can assure you that I’ve had more than enough time to locate a gift, Miss Lewis. Open it.”

He felt a tiny bit of eager anticipation stir in his heart, though he tried to hide it; he did not want the others to see just how much he truly _cared._ And really, he shouldn’t care if she liked it or not - she should just be grateful that he’d decided to present her with anything at all.

But he _did_ care.

She opened the box, and Loki’s heart immediately plummeted, for Darcy simply stared in shock, her lips slightly parted. “You do not like it?” he said, trying to sound brusque - Norns forbid she notice his hurt.

“I…” Darcy glanced over her shoulder, and Loki realized that they’d caught the attention of the others; he supposed the sight of him handing out gifts must’ve been enough to cause quite a stir.

“What is it, Darce?” Jane Foster called from the couch. “Can I see?”

And then Stark was leaning over her shoulder. His eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. “Diamond ring,” he announced.

_“What?”_

Loki’s brow furrowed. “I do not understand,” he said, his irritation quickly mounting. “Is this not a traditional gift during this season for the women of Midgard? From the advertisements that I have seen on the television—”

“It’s _beautiful,_ Mischief,” Darcy said, flushing prettily. “It’s just… this sort of thing is pretty significant, here on Earth. Diamond rings, I mean.”

“Oh.” He looked around carefully, attempting to judge the feel of the room. There were too many eyes on him, and when he met Thor’s gaze, his brother simply shook his head and shrugged. _No help at all._ “Well, this is a significant holiday, is it not? You’ve said that it is your favorite. And I did have them add the emeralds; I find diamonds very _plain,_ but the television—”

But little Darcy Lewis wrapped herself around him before he’d had a chance to finish his thought, laughing so hard that she nearly had tears in her eyes. “Best Christmas _ever,”_ she declared. And then she kissed him on the cheek, still laughing, and Loki decided that he did not _care_ what the others had to say about it; he’d already gotten all he really wanted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS EPISODE!! <3  
> I live for your comments, my dears
> 
> Have a wonderful holiday season!  
> MoA


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